


If It's (Fake) Love

by Wordsplat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, M/M, Oblivious, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 17:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3944725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsplat/pseuds/Wordsplat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to avoid the annual Stark family retreat Tony may or may not accidentally blurt out that he's bisexual. He may or may not also accidentally make up a fake boyfriend that sounds an awful lot like someone he already knows. Getting Steve to pretend to be his boyfriend for the weekend is surprisingly easy; remembering that they're pretending turns out to be a lot harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not actually sure yet what characters will show up/in what ways, so I'll make changes to the character list as I figure it out.
> 
> Also, a note on Tony's family in this fic: I've purposefully tamed them down. Howard will still be kind of a dick and Maria will still be a little distant, but any family dysfunction will be of the "families are strange and exhausting but at the end of the day we all love each other and want each other to be happy" variety. Excessive family angst is not the goal here.

The annual Stark family retreat to Stowe Mountain was the kind of pure, unadulterated torture only family could inflict.

Which wasn't to say he didn't love his family, because he did. He just didn't always  _like_ them.

His dad couldn't get out half a sentence without nagging him, always going on about how Tony could be taking more college credits, enrolling in summer courses, testing out of classes, whatever. Anything to finish college faster and pick up the Stark Industries mantle sooner, because god forbid Tony actually enjoy himself for a couple years first. His mom spoke to him less every year, usually managing a perfunctory hello hug before rushing off to play host and fuss over everyone else. Grandma was crotchety and racist, and when he was eight he'd spilled Lucky Charms on her scarf. She still hadn't forgiven him. Grandpa was silent to the point that Tony tended to forget he was there at all. Until he was about fourteen he’d been pretty sure Grandpa was some kind of space case with dementia or something, until Aunt Melinda had informed him Grandpa was a record-breaking chess grandmaster and probably the smartest person in the room. In a room full of Starks, that was saying something. Ever since then Tony had been convinced Grandpa was watching him, waiting for him to slip up and prove himself unworthy of the Stark name.

Then there were his innumerable aunts, uncles, and assorted cousins. They could be alright in small doses, and one or two were even surprisingly awesome—Aunt Peggy and cousin Bruce sprang to mind—but even the best of them had very little understanding of boundaries. Privacy was all but a foreign concept.

The retreat was held at an utterly enormous cabin that had been in the family for decades, but these days there were so many of them running around that only adult couples could be guaranteed a room to themselves. There were a few, preciously rare single rooms, but those were assigned by order of age and Tony was unfortunately rather far down on that list. Everyone else bunked in the basement, where more than a dozen king-sized mattresses had been crammed together long ago to make a giant group bed. It had been cool when he was five, but at twenty all Tony wanted a good night’s sleep. Instead, he got shoved into a windowless free-for-all with his loud, bratty cousins who wrestled over everything and went through his stuff and did stupid shit like hold burp contests at four in the morning.

No more. He was a college junior now, basically a full-fledged adult, and he deserved his own room. Until his parents agreed to this basic and quite simple stipulation, he refused to attend any further family gatherings. Predictably, his dad didn't exactly respond well—mostly he'd laughed—so Tony hung up and implemented plan B. He disengaged from all electronics and disappeared off the face of social media, even turned off his cell phone so his dad couldn’t GPS track him. For about three days he felt quite pleased with himself.

At 8am Monday morning, however—after fifteen missed calls, ten ignored texts, and three deleted Facebook invites—Dad drove all the way out to MIT and started banging down Tony’s door. It took approximately five minutes for a supremely hungover Rhodey to cave and open the door in spite of Tony’s hissed protests.

“Hello, James.” Dad greeted briskly, taking Rhodey by the arm.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, I’m definitely not hungover right n—”

Dad didn't even pretend to be listening. He hauled Rhodey out of the room and walked inside, shutting the door definitively behind him. He didn’t lock it, but Rhodey got the message anyway and didn’t even try to come back in. Traitor.

“Hi, Dad,” Tony said weakly.

“You are coming,” Dad announced without preamble. “Or you are cut off.”

And people said Tony was dramatic.

He stalled as best he could, citing homework and lab work and every other activity he could up with, to no effect.

“You’re the heir to Stark Industries.” Dad pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose the way he did when Tony was trying his patience. “People want to see how you’re developing. It’s only three days, you’ll be fine.”

“‘Developing’? All my parts came in and my hormones even had the indecency to arrive early, I’m plenty developed. I can grow a beard now and everything, send them a picture—”

“They don’t care about your…” Dad paused to eye his goatee disdainfully. “Attempt at facial hair—”

Tony balked. “It’s not an _attempt—”_

“They want to know what you’re like. How college is going, what you’re learning, the experiences you’ve had. You’re going to carry on the family legacy, they want to know it’s in good hands.”

For the record, it was the ‘experiences’ part that triggered whatever insane impulse in Tony’s head made him say what he said next.

“What about my gay experience?” Tony challenged. “Bet they don’t want to hear about that. Grandma and Grandpa will disavow our whole side of the family, everyone will be disappointed in us, blah blah blah, whole big thing, best to just avoid it altogether by having me not come.”

Dad stared at him.

Tony’d had a lot of really dumb ideas over the years. Blurting out his sexuality—half of it, anyway, he was technically bi but now probably wasn’t the time for technicalities—in an attempt to get out of a family retreat was probably his all time worst. Stubbornness got the best of him though, so he stuck his chin up determinedly and waited for the inevitable shouting match, the disowning, the you’re-letting-the-whole-family-down-how-dare-you’s—

Dad repeated flatly, “Your ‘gay experience’.”

Because Tony never really did learn when to leave well enough alone, instead of simply nodding he went and opened his mouth.

“Yep, I’m gay, sort of, I mean, bisexual technically, but it’s basically the same thing except not really at all but the point is that I like men—well, not _men,_ but dudes, guys, boy-people who are generally around my age, though not _just_ guys, but most importantly guys, not that guys are more important than girls, but I’m into a guy right now, that is, I’m dating him, yeah, definitely, totally dating a guy and I wouldn’t want to lie to the family about him so I shouldn’t go, just in case they ask if I’m dating anyone, we wouldn’t want to cause a scene, that’s not the Stark way, so maybe I should just, you know, not go, again, ever.”

“You have a boyfriend.” Through all of Tony’s babbling Dad had only moved to raise a single, entirely unimpressed eyebrow. Despite the fact that he actually didn’t, Tony found himself offended anyway that his dad clearly didn’t believe him.

“What’re you looking at me like that for? Of course I do!” When Dad still looked unimpressed, Tony couldn’t help piling it on. “I have a great boyfriend! Greatest of the great. He’s, uh…well, he’s tall. And blonde, like, sunny blonde. Blue eyes. Muscles, lots of muscles. And he’s…he’s smart, and funny, and nice, really nice, not like ‘nice’ but like _nice,_ the kind of nice you don’t think actually exists until you meet him.”

It belatedly occurred to Tony he might’ve been getting a little too specific with his description. God damn it. He shut his trap and cleared his throat, but it was too late. Dad was smirking. Uh-oh.

“Sounds great. Can’t wait to meet him.”

“Uh. What?” Tony stammered. “I. Um. He might not be able to…to get off school! Since it’s such short notice, and all—”

“Of course.” Dad gave a small snort of laughter. “Bring him, don’t bring him, I don’t care. But with or without your mythical boyfriend you will be at that retreat, Anthony. Do you understand me?”

“But Grandma—”

“Got over it when your Aunt Peggy married a black man, and she’ll get over it if you show up with a boy in tow. If you can’t handle a few barbed comments from your grandmother you’re hardly going to last long in charge of SI.” Dad eyed him a moment longer, then added, “And no one else cares what you get up to, Tony.”

Tony swallowed, focused on the first part. “Grandma’s a lot more intimidating than anyone at SI.”

Dad shrugged, clearly not disagreeing. “Good practice, then.”

Once his dad left, Rhodey stumbled back inside and immediately cocooned himself in bed. He’d be no help for another couple hours. Tony, on the other hand, was unfortunately now wide awake. Figuring this was a conversation to be had in person and Steve was one of those weirdos who would be awake at nine am, Tony changed out of pajamas and trekked across campus to Evans Hall.

Steve laughed so long and so hard it was frankly insulting.

“I’m serious, jackass,” Tony grumbled eventually, when there seemed to be no end to Steve’s amusement.

“Your first thought—your _first thought—_ was to tell him you liked guys?”

“I do, I don’t know why that’s so funny.” Tony scowled.

“I spent months agonizing over how to tell my mom.” Steve shook his head, still laughing, leaning against the doorframe now to hold himself up. “Months! And you don’t want to go on one family vacation so you blurt out you’re bi?”

“It’s a retreat, not a vacation,” Tony corrected, insulted and therefore feeling pedantic. “And can you let me in already? This feels like a weird conversation to have in the hallway. Not that normal people are awake yet, or anything.”

Steve kept snickering but held the door open wider to let Tony in. Tony dropped his backpack by the door and made his way to Steve and Sam's beat up disaster of a couch. Sam was another early riser and had thankfully already left for class, or the library, or wherever insane people who got up with the sun went in the mornings. Tony collapsed on the couch with a sigh. Steve shot him a look as he closed the door behind them.

“I'm going to assume telling the truth isn't an option here?"

Steve had known Tony since freshman year and was hands down the best friend Tony had made since coming to college. Rhodey would always be Tony’s best friend, they’d known each other since elementary school, but Steve was damn close. He certainly knew Tony well enough to know that backtracking now wasn’t an option. Tony scoffed.

“And have my dad shoot me smug, I-knew-it-all-along looks all weekend? Hell no.”

“It’s one weekend. It wouldn’t kill you.”

“What, like it’ll kill you to throw an arm around my shoulder?” Tony demanded, a little insulted. “You’re already all touchy-feely anyway. If I’m near enough when you laugh—”

“I can’t _—”_

“—you squeeze my chest—”

“—help it, it’s a reflex, and I don’t _squeeze—”_

“So get more reflex-y! Grab my chest, touch my waist, squeeze my shoulder, boom, couple in love. Easy peasy.”

“That’s not all being a couple is.”

“That’s all being a couple in front of my parents would be! They barely pay any attention to me at these things anyway, it’s not like they’re going to be watching all that closely.”

“You just told them out of the blue that you were bisexual and bringing your presumably serious boyfriend to a family retreat, I’m pretty sure they’re going to be watching us fairly closely.”

“Point taken. Still, we probably won’t even have to make out or anything—”

“Probably?”

“It’s not like I have cooties!”

“Don’t act like I’m the weird one here, you're the one asking me to kiss you for the sake of—”

“I’m not _asking_ you to kiss me, I’m saying it might possibly become necessary at some point and you should brace yourself so you don’t go falling in love with me or any—” Steve interrupted him by laughing so hard he had to grab the wall to stay standing. Tony bristled, definitely insulted now. “Shut up!”

“Do you really—” Even as he tried to speak, Steve couldn't stop snickering. “— _really_ think I’d fall in love over one measly little kiss?”

Tony scowled at him indignantly. “Measly? My kissing skills are legendary, fuck you very much.”

“Pepper says you use too much tongue.” Steve smirked at him.

“Pepper is a dirty liar.”

“And Rhodey says—”

“What the hell does Rhodey know?” Tony balked. “I never kissed him!”

“He says watching you kiss is like watching seals fight over a grape. You go for it too hard.”

“Well, fuck him too.”

“If you want to fuck him so much, why don’t you take him to this thing instead?” Steve suggested, still grinning like the asshole he was.

“I may have possibly already described you to my dad.” Tony rubbed his hands over his face. “I considered dyeing Rhodey’s hair blonde in the middle of the night, but he’d look ridiculous and I can’t let them think I have bad taste in guys.”

“Not to mention Rhodey would murder you long before you ever made it to the retreat.”

“That too.” Tony sighed. “Besides, they know him. Come on, please? I’ll owe you one. I’ll write your next term paper?”

“You know nothing about art.” Steve snorted. “I’m not even sure you know the difference between graphite and charcoals.”

“I’ll buy all your books next semester?” Tony tried. He'd offered before, offered every semester since they met, but Steve had too much pride to ever take him up on it before. Maybe now he could—

"No." Steve shook his head, then tilted it in consideration. "I know what I want."

"Good!" Tony nodded eagerly. "Great, anything, what do you—"

"We're getting coffee," Steve declared, grabbing his sweatshirt off his desk and tugging it over his head. "And you're paying, 'boyfriend'."

"That's it?" Tony frowned. Steve shrugged.

"That's what I want."

"Careful there, Rogers." Tony rolled his eyes, though he was already hopping off the couch eagerly. Coffee sounded divine. "People are going to think you're after me for my money."

"Sure." Steve snorted a laugh. To be fair, in three years of friendship Steve had let Tony spend maybe grand total of a hundred dollars on him. Tony had encountered many a gold digger before, both the friend and the romantic variety, and could say definitively that if Steve was one then he was easily the worst Tony had ever seen. "You should be nice to me, you know. I can still dump you before this retreat thing.”

“No, no dumping me, dump me and I won’t pay for your coffee,” Tony threatened.

“Liar.” Steve knew him far too well to believe him. He smiled. “But fine, I won’t dump you.”

Tony made a face. “What, am I supposed to thank you?”

“For going along with your insane scheme to trick your family into thinking you have a boyfriend?” Steve raised an amused eyebrow at him. “Uh, yeah.”

"Alright, fair." He could admit Steve had a point. "Thank you."

"Thank me in coffee. I'm going to feel much better about all this after a cup of coffee," Steve told him, holding the door open. “And a scone. Or, hey, maybe two scones, since my boyfriend’s buying.”

“You’re going to abuse the shit out of this, aren’t you?” Tony shook his head as they exited into the hallway. He knew he had to play it off just right—a little exasperated, a little amused—or Steve would stop, but Tony was grateful for the excuse to spoil him a little. Steve deserved it the most and allowed it the least.

“Absolutely.” Steve grinned at him, taking his hand. Tony stared down at their interlaced fingers.

“What are you doing?”

“What, did you think we could just show up at the cabin and magically morph into believable boyfriends?”

“That’s literally exactly what I thought.”

“We need practice, or they’ll never buy it.” Steve shrugged and dropped his hand. “Unless you want us to make fools of ourselves. I’ll never have to see any of them again and my coffee will still be paid for, I’m fine either way.”

Tony made an exasperated sound and took Steve’s hand again aggressively. “There. Hand-holding. Yay practice.”

“Well, don’t look too happy about it,” Steve said sarcastically. Tony forced a grin. “God, never mind, that looks worse.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not until the third date.”

“I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do.” Steve laughed. “That’s why when called on to describe a nonexistent boyfriend, I was your first thought.”

“That—it’s not like—” Tony couldn’t help stumbling over his words a little. He tried to force down the blush he could feel creeping up the back of his neck. “We hang out the most, that’s all.”

“I’m honored you put so much thought into selecting me.”

“I should just tell my dad I dumped you for being a jerk to me all the time.”

“Too late, deal’s struck.” Steve hummed, dropping Tony hand briefly to hold the door for him on their way out of the dorm.

“Are you gonna start doing that all the time now?” Tony made a face at him. “And like, pulling my chairs out and shit? What are you, ninety?”

“It’s called chivalry,” Steve informed him, entirely unembarrassed as he took Tony’s hand again.

“It’s called being a dork.” Tony stared at their hands. Steve’s was really big around his. And warm. And kinda soft, for a football player. It suited him. “Are you going to do this all the time now too? Because I’m pretty used to having both hands available.”

“You act like no one’s ever held your hand before.” Steve rolled his eyes. Then, because he noticed everything and Tony’s reluctant silence wasn't exactly subtle, his eyes widened. “Really?”

“Shut up, it’s dumb, this is dumb—” Tony tried to jerk his hand away, but Steve held on and squeezed.

“Hey.” He caught Tony’s eyes and informed him seriously, “It’s not dumb. The people who didn’t want to hold your hand are the dumb ones.”

“You’re like a really weird Hallmark card,” Tony told him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Steve smiled.

Tony glanced down and away, uncomfortable with Steve’s particular brand of sincerity. “Aren’t you worried about people seeing us?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know about your friends, but mine'll go crazy if they think I’m dating someone. Especially someone they already know.” Tony slept around, but didn’t really 'date'—almost never, and certainly never anyone his friends approved of—so technically he didn’t know for sure, but he could take a guess. Rhodey in particular would be insufferable. He was convinced Tony was still into Steve and just in denial. Which, okay, sure, he may have technically had a teensy bit of a crush on Steve for a year or two there, but who wouldn't? This was Steve they were talking about, everyone had at least half a crush on him. Tony lost his chance, mourned it properly, then got the hell over it. End of story. 

“Oh, mine too,” Steve agreed. “Natasha’s been trying to set me up for ages.”

“You’re not going to tell her this is fake?”

“Sure.” Steve shrugged, smirked a little. “But who says I can't have some fun first?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Tony decided.

“Why not enjoy it?” Steve shrugged again. “You’re my friend, it’s not like hanging out with you is some kind of hardship.”

“Being all couple-y really isn’t going to be weird for you?” Tony looked at him dubiously.

“Nah,” Steve said easily. “You're overthinking things. Bucky and I held hands walking to school until the fifth grade, it was our interpretation of the buddy system. Holding your hand isn’t going to freak me out.”

“Kissing me will,” Tony accused.

“I’m not going to fall in love with you over one little kiss.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Not if we practice first,” Tony reminded him. “We have to desensitize you.”

“To what?” Steve bat his eyes dramatically. “Your magic lips?”

“You’re going to regret taking this so lightly,” Tony warned.

“Sure, Tony.” Steve dropped his hand. Tony couldn’t help the flash of disappointment, before he realized Steve was just going to hold open the door to their campus coffee shop.

“You have a door fetish.” Tony quickly moved inside.

Maybe if he kept in front of Steve in line, Steve wouldn’t take his hand again. The whole ‘practicing holding hands’ thing was just—it was stupid, Tony didn’t need any practice with that. It wasn’t like it was hard or anything, they’d practiced enough. He told himself he wasn’t grateful when Steve’s hand slipped back into his.

“So I’m thinking three scones,” Steve told him.

“How do you look like you do and eat like you do?” Tony demanded.

“I work out.” Steve shrugged.

“Yeah, and then you eat crap all day,” Tony accused. “I’ve seen you eat four pints of Ben and Jerry’s. In a row.”

“My metabolism is faster because I work out so much,” Steve defended himself. Then he paused, grinned at Tony wickedly. “And what do you mean, look like I do?”

“Don’t act all surprised,” Tony scoffed. “You know exactly what you look like.”

“Maybe it’s you falling in love with me we’ve got to worry about.” Steve hummed. Tony made a face.

“As _if._ Your taste in movies is atrocious.”

“Says the guy watching Disney movies.”

“I watched one Disney movie, one, and it was because Pepper was going through a breakup. You’re the one binge-watching Golden Girls.”

“You said you wouldn’t check my Netflix queue!” Steve accused.

“I say a lot of things! If you’re going to use my Netflix account, I reserve the right to make fun of you for using it badly.”

“Fair enough, Cinderella.”

“You shut your mouth—”

“Can I, um.” The student working the register coughed awkwardly to interrupt them. “Help you guys?”

“Three scones, an iced Cappuccino, and a large drip coffee, please. And a marble brownie.” Steve smiled at the barista. “He’ll pay.”

“Gold digger.” Tony put up the token protest, but was already pulling out his wallet. “Brownie too now?”

“They're your favorite, aren’t they?”

“Buttering me up with brownies. Smooth, Rogers.”

The cashier passed over the bag. Steve took the brownie out, popped it in Tony’s mouth, then smiled innocently. “Is it working, honey?”

“I hate you,” Tony mumbled through a mouthful of brownie. Damn, that was good.

“He doesn’t like being awake before noon,” Steve told the cashier. He threw an arm around Tony’s waist to pull him closer, kissing his temple and announcing cheerily, “But I love him anyway.”

Was it hot in here, or was it just him? He wiggled out of Steve’s grip to go secure them a table. “Just get our drinks, weirdo.”

While Steve waited on their drinks, Tony snagged their usual table by the window and tried to will down the blush that felt like it’d taken over his face. Was spontaneous combustion possible? Probably not, but it sure felt like it. Steve joined him after a minute or two and passed over Tony’s coffee. Tony gulped it down for an excuse to do anything but look at Steve’s face.

“You couldn’t even fool the cashier.” Steve chuckled. “And you really think we can pull this off without practice?”

“You could’ve given me some warning!” His voice was definitely not meant to hit that pitch. He lowered it as he elaborated, “Just say something next time, jeez."

“Sorry, Batman.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I didn’t realize a kiss on the cheek was enough to turn you into a human stoplight.”

“I didn’t blush,” Tony lied into his coffee cup.

“Well.” Steve just smiled that stupid smile at him. “You’re going to need to get your not-blushing under control if you want anyone to believe we’re really dating.”

Steve kicked him under the table. Tony frowned, kicked him back.

“Ow, what—” Steve rubbed his shin. “Why’d you kick me?”

“You kicked me first!”

“I didn’t _kick_ you, it’s called footsie.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Look, if you’re not going to commit to this thing we might as well just—”

“I’m committed,” Tony muttered, reluctantly hooking his foot around Steve’s ankle. “What makes you the relationship expert, anyway? Who says couples play footsie? What if we’re one of those normal couples that doesn’t bother with all the…like, the handholding and the footsie and the affectionate crap?”

“Having affection for each other is kind of the basis of being a couple, Tony.” Steve was frowning at him now, thoughtful and a little sad. “Was Ty like that? All sex and no affection?”

“Careful, Rogers.” Tony gulped down more of his coffee, mostly for something to do that wasn’t meet Steve’s eyes. “Just because we’re fake dating now doesn’t mean you get to psychoanalyze me.”

Ty was his 'boyfriend' from earlier that year. Their relationship had admittedly been pretty focused on sex and not a single one of Tony’s friends had approved, but it wasn’t like Tony had cared. It had been a part of his "get over Steve" phase, which was mostly composed of listening to overly melodramatic love songs during the day and binge-drinking until he found a reasonably handsome blond at night. Ty had come along around week two or three and showed him a modicum of what he'd thought was genuine affection; Tony had been hooked until he sobered up and realized he couldn't find any of his credit cards.

So yeah, they hadn't exactly run around holding hands and playing footsie, but it wasn't like Steve knew that. Steve didn't know much of anything about his relationship with Ty. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his meltdown off Steve's radar, but in the process he knew he'd made Steve feel excluded from his life. Since the implosion of his relationship with Ty and subsequent reordering of his priorities, he'd made a huge effort to rebuild their friendship. They were mostly there. Steve wasn't the kind of guy to hold a grudge and it had only been a month or so anyway, right at the beginning of the year. Almost five months ago now. Still. Sometimes Tony caught Steve looking at him a little worried, a little unsure, and he felt like shit all over again.

But honestly, what was he supposed to do? Say "hey Steve, I was maybe a little in love with you for two years or so there, but then you got all buff over the summer and I realized my chance was gone forever so I might've kinda lost it and tried to drink my liver into submission in between sleeping with a bunch of dudes who look like you? Sorry I forgot to call you back a couple times"?

Yeah, no.

“Trying to understand doesn’t mean I’m trying to psychoanalyze.” Steve was picking at his scone now. He felt bad. Damn it. “Or judge.”

“Well, good.” Tony bumped his ankle, hoping that counted as some kind of comfort. “So. Hand-holding, check. Footsie, check. Anything else on your ‘Steve Rogers is a Walking Cliché’ list you want to warn me about?”

“If any of your clothes even slightly fit me, I'll be stealing and wearing them.”

“You have a problem.”

“It’s called being a romantic,” Steve informed him, sneaking his hand across the table to break off some of Tony’s brownie for himself. “Same goes for your food."

“You already eat my food.” It was true. Tony couldn’t eat anything larger than a handful of peanuts without Steve digging in, though Tony had never really wanted to stop him. He'd seen pictures of the guy from when he was a kid, he'd always been small. That had changed last summer, obviously, but now he just had a killer metabolism to combat with. Tony usually went out of his way to keep food out whenever Steve was around, but like with the money, he knew better than to appear to approve; Steve was funny that way.

“Fair.” Steve shrugged unapologetically.

“I don’t get you,” Tony announced. “I remind you that we need to practice kissing and you act like I’ve got cooties, but then you go around grabbing my hand and playing kick-footsie and stealing all my stuff. So do you want to practice, or not?”

“You know how to kiss.” Steve rolled his eyes. “You don’t need any practice with that.”

“Of course I don’t, I’m a natural. But who says you don’t?”

“I know how to kiss.” Steve smirked.

“Yeah?” Tony licked his lips. “Prove it.”

Steve laughed. “Are you going to spend all weekend asking me to kiss you?”

“I’m not asking.” Tony scoffed. “I’m pointing out that if we’re going to practice the dumb stuff, we should also practice the important stuff.”

“Kissing isn’t the important stuff,” Steve disagreed.

“Uh, yeah, it kind of is. Unless you want to blow me in front of my parents—”

“Gross, Tony.” Steve’s nose wrinkled up, which Tony absolutely did not find cute. “Look, whether or not I kiss you isn’t going to convince your parents we’re dating. The little stuff is. When you’re in love with someone it’s not about the grand gesture, the dip and kiss, whatever. It’s like...well, it's like having a best friend. They make everything more interesting, whether it's just getting coffee or embarking some crazy scheme you know full well will backfire terribly."

"Ha ha." Tony laughed sarcastically. "This is going to go off without a hitch, just you watch."

"Sure, Tony." Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "How long do we have to practice?”

“We leave Friday morning. It’s a long drive and we'll be expected for lunch, so we should leave pretty early.” Tony rubbed his forehead. “Like, _early_ early. How dickish of me would it be to—”

“I’ll drive first,” Steve agreed without protest. “If you mapquest it for me beforehand, you can even sleep in the car if you want.”

“You’re a saint.” Tony sighed gratefully.

Steve shrugged a little, smile small and crooked. “I know you.”

“Best fake boyfriend ever,” Tony insisted with a grin in return.

“Happy to help.” Steve polished off the last of his first scone, moving on to the second. “You know, you should probably tell me a little about your family, if we’re—”

“They're obnoxious.” Tony took a long gulp of coffee. Crap. He hadn’t really thought about the fact that this plan involved Steve actually meeting his family. “That’s it, that’s all you need to know.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Steve had crumbs at the corner of his mouth. Tony tried not to fixate. “They can’t be all bad.”

“Of course they can,” Tony disagreed, tearing his eyes from Steve’s mouth. “And they are. By the end of the weekend, I promise you’ll have been emotionally, physically, and sexually assaulted. Possibly all by the same person, if Darcy’s coming this year.”

“I’m both curious and concerned.”

“As you should be. Just because you hit the family lottery doesn’t mean we all got so lucky.”

Tony knew Steve’s mom quite well. The first time they’d met was when she’d come out to pick Steve up and take him home for winter break their freshman year, almost exactly two years ago now. Tony had been hanging out with Steve when she arrived—by chance, or so he’d thought at the time, though in retrospect Steve could be a sneaky little shit when he wanted to be—and she’d taken a shine to him almost immediately. She’d fed him cookies and asked him questions and told him he absolutely had to come out to visit them if he was near Brooklyn over break. Tony hedged a ‘sure, maybe’, but Steve ratted him out and told her Tony’s parents wanted him to stay in Cambridge for Christmas, with heavy, pointed emphasis on the _Christmas_ , _Ma_. Mrs. Rogers had Tony bundled up and stuffed into her minivan before he could so much as think a protest, much less voice it.

He’d had no idea what Christmas could be like until he’d spent it with the Rogers and Barnes’.

Ever since, she called him up at least once a month insisting she was sure they were both behind on laundry and in need of a good, home-cooked meal— _I can just sense it, don’t lie to me young man—_ and that Tony simply _had_ to drive Steve and himself home so she could fix that. Tony had tried telling her it wasn’t necessary, but always found himself in the car less than an hour later, an entirely unsurprised Steve piled in next to him.

Yeah, Tony not-so-secretly adored her.

“Well.” Steve got that dopey sort of smile he always did when Tony mentioned how awesome he thought Steve’s mom was. He looked ridiculous, especially with those stupid crumbs. “I’m sure they’re not as bad as you’re making them out to be.”

“Well, okay, Bruce is pretty great, but he’s not a Stark, he’s a distantly related adoptee. He’s practically normal, the lucky bastard." Tony tried and failed for the hundredth time to stop staring at Steve’s stupid mouth. He waved a hand vaguely. “You’ve got…”

“What?” Steve rubbed a thumb at the wrong corner of his mouth.

“Nope.”

“No?” Steve dropped his hand.

“No, I mean, yes, there are crumbs, but you’ve got the wrong—” Tony made a frustrated noise, reached out and brushed them away himself.

“I was wondering why you were staring at my mouth.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Tony muttered, rubbing his hand on his pants. “And it wasn’t at your mouth, it was at your cheek.”

“You weren’t staring, or you were staring at my cheek?” Steve smirked.

“I wasn’t—just shut up, alright? You can’t be my fake boyfriend if you’re going to be a slob all weekend, I don’t want those assholes thinking I have shit taste in men.”

“I’ll be the picture of manners,” Steve informed him, before promptly shoving the entire rest of his scone in his mouth. Crumbs went everywhere. “Whe’ a’ I no’?”

Tony tried to stare at him flatly, but couldn’t help cracking a smile. Only Steve could make that charming instead of completely disgusting. “You’re a menace, Rogers.”

Steve laughed, swallowed his food. He grinned as he looked over Tony’s shoulder, and Tony turned to catch sight of girl giggling to her friend while staring at them. “Aw, look, she thinks we’re a couple.”

“Great.” Tony groaned. He really hadn’t given this plan enough thought. “Now what’re we going to do after this weekend when the whole school still thinks we’re dating?”

“I doubt anyone really cares.” Steve chuckled.

“I think you’re underestimating our combined popularity,” Tony pointed out. “You’re quarterman, or whatever—”

“Quarterback,” Steve corrected, amused as always, like Tony didn’t come and cheer for him in every game.

“Right, whatever, _and_ you’re in with the art crowd—I’ve got the robotics team and the engineers, plus hanging out with Pepper means I know all the student government kids, and between Rhodey, Sam, and Bucky, that’s ROTC. Throw in Natasha and that gives us newspaper—”

“‘Gives us’?” Steve raised both eyebrows. “Are we collecting them?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Steve chuckled, leaning across the table to break off another bite of Tony’s brownie. “But so what?”

“ _So,_ what do we do after this weekend when people ask?”

“Say we ‘broke up’?” Steve shrugged, talking through a mouthful of brownie. “Go on with our lives?”

“Why aren’t you as bothered by this as I am?” Tony insisted.

Steve looked vaguely irritated now. Shit. “What, like it’s so terrible people might think we dated?”

“It’s not _terrible,”_ Tony corrected quickly. He hadn’t meant to be a dick, obviously anyone would be crazy lucky to date Steve. “It just wouldn’t be true, that’s all I—”

“If you’re going to be this weird about it, maybe we shouldn't—”

“No no no, we definitely can, no weirdness, I promise,” Tony insisted. Steve glanced down at their hands. Tony belatedly realized he’d grabbed Steve’s in an effort to keep him in place in spite of the fact that Steve hadn’t actually made any move to get up. Steve didn’t seem to mind, though, and wasn’t he the one insisting they had to practice affection? Tony squeezed his hand for good measure, reiterated, “Please, Steve? It has to be you, you're the only person I can trust to actually pull this off.”

Steve nodded slowly, then again with more certainty and a little bit of a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. But I want another scone.”

“Where do you put those?” Tony made an exaggerated noise of frustration, but the way he was grinning probably undermined his point. He felt way more relieved than he should be. Yeah, he could probably find another blonde-haired blue-eyed guy willing to be paid off to fake-date him somewhere on campus, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun with anyone else. It wouldn’t feel the same.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you? Scones build six packs.”

“You’re such a liar.”

“I’m serious! I need at least six scones a day, one to feed each muscle.”

“I,” Tony declared as he pulled out his wallet again. “Am _proudly_ fake-dating a complete weirdo. Take this and get your six scones, weirdo.”

Steve accepted the credit card Tony passed him, standing up and starting to walk back towards the counter. As he passed Tony, he bent to the side enough to pick up Tony’s now-empty coffee cup and, casual as anything, drop a kiss on the crown of Tony’s head. “Thanks. I’ll get your refill while I’m at it.”

Tony blinked. Swallowed. Tried to force the red back down before Steve—  

“Human stoplight,” Steve called over his shoulder.

Damn it.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve was disturbingly good at this.

While Tony found himself second-guessing every move he made, Steve slipped right into the role of Boyfriend Extraordinaire like he was made for it. Which made sense, Tony supposed—Steve had been in normal relationships before, whereas Tony’s past experience was limited to hookups and Ty—but it was still strange. Steve didn’t seem to have any problems knowing what to do and when to do it and for how long; he didn’t even seem to think about it. It all came so naturally to him, like it was second nature to be touching Tony all the time. Which, sure, they'd always been fairly touchy, but now Steve would put an arm around his shoulders whenever they sat together on the couch. Or he'd kiss Tony's cheek when they said hello, or before they said goodbye. He'd squeeze Tony's hand to get his attention, hold doors for him, even carry his things. Steve made this fake boyfriend thing look damn easy, and if Tony was being honest with himself, he was a little jealous of that.

He’d decide to put his arm around Steve, then change his mind, then change it again, then flail a little bit and hit Steve in the face. He’d go to kiss Steve’s cheek and either miss completely or do it too forcefully, practically headbutting the guy. He’d try to take Steve’s hand, and instead of a casual intertwining of the fingers like Steve always managed, he’d wind up clutching to him like a kid lost in a superstore. It was ridiculous. This was the dumb, unimportant shit, it should not be even close to this hard, and yet Tony still seemed to fuck it up every time he tried.

Steve only ever seemed to find him amusing, though. He didn’t get frustrated or fed up with Tony’s sudden inability to function like a sane human being, just laughed and teased him and showed him how to do it right. Tony couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse.

“Tony,” Steve said, and Tony knew immediately from his amused, mildly disbelieving tone that he’d done something wrong again.

“What now?” Tony almost knocked the popcorn bowl over as he threw his hands up, exasperated. Steve paused the movie. “All I did was sit on the couch! I even brought you popcorn, is there some secret rule about couples not bringing each other popcorn?”

Steve laughed. “I told you, there aren’t any ‘secret rules’—”

“It fucking seems like there is—”

“I promise there’s not.” Steve took his hand, squeezed. He was doing it so often lately Tony had to remind himself Steve was just practicing. Not that Steve needed practice, apparently. “You’ll pick it up, relax. I was just going to say that you’re sitting awfully far from your supposed boyfriend.”

“I’m sitting at a perfectly normal distance!” There was enough room so they weren’t all squished together, but not enough room that someone could come and sit between them. He’d thought it out this time, this was exactly the right amount of space for—

“For a friend, sure,” Steve pointed out, bumping their knees together for emphasis. “But no one’s going to believe we’re dating if you can’t even stand to have our knees touch.”

“I can stand it,” Tony insisted. “You played footsie with me all through class yesterday and I totally stood it!”

Something flickered in Steve’s expression, there and gone too fast for Tony to catch. What, had he done that wrong too? “Glad you can bear to have me touch you, but if you like someone their touch falls a little more into the ‘enjoyable’ category. Being around them feels comfortable, it feels…good. It makes you happy.”

And that…Tony had actually been trying pretty hard _not_ to think about that. It wasn’t like he didn’t know Steve was attractive. Or funny. Or kind. Or…or all sorts of other things, things that made him maybe more than a little appealing to Tony in a not-strictly-platonic sort of way. Tony wasn’t blind. He’d just been pushing thoughts like that to the back of his mind for a pretty long time now, and he’d gotten good at it. Good at sitting a certain distance away, at not touching Steve longer than necessary, at cracking jokes to lighten any tension; Steve meant far too much to him for Tony to make things weird between them. Only now there was all this _touching_ and _flirting_ and _footsie,_ and friends probably weren’t supposed to get sparks when friends played footsie with them. Well, in theory friends didn’t play footsie anyway, but whatever, that wasn’t—

“You have got to stop thinking so much.” Steve moved the popcorn bowl from between them to the table. “Just…relax, Tony. You like me, I like you, we’ve been dating for a little while now. We’ve got a free night and we’re watching a movie together. How close to me do you want to be?”

If this were real…

Tony ignored the way his heart felt like it might beat right out his chest and awkwardly maneuvered himself closer. Steve already had an arm up on the back of the couch, so Tony tucked himself underneath, curling up against Steve’s side and resting his head in the dip where Steve’s shoulder met his chest. Steve brought his arm down, closed it around Tony and gave a squeeze.

“Not so hard, right?”

“Just turn the movie back on.”

Steve was kind enough to press play without saying anything else. Tony tried to watch, but found himself distracted by Steve’s heartbeat against his cheek. It’d picked up, was beating just as fast as Tony’s own now, which was surprisingly comforting. For all that Steve acted blasé, it was nice to know this pretending-to-be-a-couple stuff got a little weird for him too.

Tony poked Steve’s heart. “Ha.”

“What?” Steve glanced at him, smiled.

“Nothing,” Tony deflected, leaning up and pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. It was perfect; not too hard, and he didn’t miss even a little. He smiled smugly to himself as Steve’s heartbeat picked up again. “Just watch your movie, smooth guy.”

Steve laughed. “Whatever you say.”

Tony still wasn’t amazing at all the fake-intimacy stuff, but he was definitely getting better. It was easier if he listened to Steve’s advice and stopped thinking so much, just…let go, a little. Pretend it was real and do what he would want to do if it was. It also meant things were maybe getting a little mixed up now, things he _would_ want to do with things he already  _did_ want to do, and Tony knew it was going to be hell untangling it all after this weekend. He was steadfastly not thinking about that yet.

Friday morning was particularly easy, mostly because he wasn’t conscious enough to second-guess himself.

“Hngh.”

“Yes, you do have to go,” Steve insisted, apparently a mind-reader now. He tried to pull the pillow off of Tony’s head, but Tony wasn’t having it. “Come on, we spent all week practicing, you can’t bail just because you’re tired.”

“Mrng.”

“Rhodey let me in, and _don’t_ yell at him, you asked him to last night.”

“Rmna.”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember, it happened.” Steve yanked his sheets off. “C’mon, up and at ‘em. All you have to do is walk down to the car, you don’t even have to change.”

“Srmnd.”

“I already put your suitcase in the car.”

“Hmcrna?”

“I used your car keys, you gave them to me last night. I also filled two of the largest coffee jugs I could find and put them in the—”

Tony peeked out from under his pillow. “Me?”

“Yes, they’re both for you.” Steve rolled his eyes, using Tony’s peek to his advantage and snatching away the pillow. He held it up high. “You’ve got pillows waiting for you in the car.”

“But—”

“I already filled your side with blankets and everything, it’s a veritable cocoon. It’s a five minute walk then you can go right back to sleep, I promise.” Steve scooped his free arm under Tony, tugged him up. Tony slumped against his side. It really wasn’t fair how comfy Steve was, he had way too many muscles to be this comfy. “We talked about this, it’s gonna be great. You can sleep the whole way, and by the time we get there you’ll be nice and rested and ready to tackle the weekend.”

“Don’t make me go,” Tony mumbled, pressing his face into Steve’s chest. “They’re terrible people and I hate them.”

“I know you don’t mean that.” Steve’s fingers started carding through his hair. “And I know families can be tricky—”

“Do you?” Tony snorted.

“My mom’s pretty great, but we’ve had our fights,” Steve admitted. “Nothing’s perfect, sweetheart. But this is going to be just fine. We get in, impress the hell out of them with our amazing coupleness, get out. I got this. Do you got this?”

“I got this,” Tony mumbled reluctantly, sitting up a little more and stretching out his back. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, come on, quit dragging your feet, Rogers.”

Steve smiled at him. “There he is.”

“Keep talking, I’ll make you carry me to the car,” Tony threatened.

“Oh no, I’m sure that would be _so_ hard for me.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“You talk a big game, but I’m not seeing any action…”

“For the record?” Steve got off the bed and knelt down with his back to Tony. “I know exactly what you’re doing, you’re just lucky I like you and value my title as—”

“Best fake boyfriend _ever,”_ Tony agreed enthusiastically, scooting off the bed and onto Steve’s back. He tightened his arms around Steve’s neck, enough to hold on without choking the guy out.

“Do you have everything?” Steve double-checked, standing up and getting his hands under Tony’s thighs to hold him steady.

“Phone, charger.” Tony pointed over Steve’s shoulder to the bedside table. Steve bent down, balancing precariously as he unplugged the charger and stuffed both it and Tony’s phone into his pockets before straightening up again.

“Anything else, your highness?”

“Nope.” Tony kissed Steve behind the ear for emphasis, then rested his head against Steve’s back and closed his eyes again.

“You’re spoiled rotten, you know that?” Steve chuckled, but when Tony peeked open one eye, he caught a blush creeping up along the back of Steve’s neck. He pressed a kiss there too. It got redder.

It occurred to him, somewhere between the fifth floor and his car, that Steve was probably the only person he knew who would actually give him a piggyback ride through their dorm. Anyone could see them—okay, it was four in the morning, nobody sane was going to see them right now—but Steve hadn’t complained at all. Or protested, really. He hadn’t even made Tony ask for it. Friend or fake boyfriend or whatever else…Steve was kind of amazing.

“You know you’re the best, right?” Tony nuzzled his cheek against the back of Steve’s neck.

“Fake boyfriend ever, yes, it’s been mentioned.” Steve chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Best anything ever,” Tony disagreed. “Best…person, being, force of existence. Whatever you want to call it. You really are the best, you know?”

Steve was quiet for a minute, then he turned his head enough to kiss Tony’s cheek. “Thanks, Tony. You’re the best too.”

“That’s not how best works.”

“I know how best works.” Steve shrugged. “And I say you’re the best too.”

“But that’s—”

“Nope.” Steve hummed. “You’re tired, I’m right, go back to sleep.”

Steve was wrong, of course, but Tony figured they could argue about it later when he was fully conscious again. For the moment, he followed Steve’s advice and went back to sleep. When they reached the car he had to unfortunately disembark from his noble steed—he might’ve said that out loud, judging from Steve’s laugh—and crawl into the car instead. Instead of going around to the driver’s side, Steve lingered, helping wrap Tony up in his blanket cocoon.

“Best ever,” Tony repeated pointedly as Steve tucked a second pillow under his head.

“You sure are.” Steve had clearly, purposefully misunderstood him, and Tony was about to open his mouth to begin a very emphatic argument until Steve leaned in very close and every other thought flew right out of Tony’s head.

They were face to face and Steve was still leaning, clearly not going for his usual cheek kiss, or a top-of-the-head kiss, and oh god Tony just woke up, his breath smelled and he hadn’t showered yet and Rhodey always said his hair looked like a tornado hit it in the mornings and he wasn’t awake enough to be any good at this so Steve was going to laugh at him and never want to kiss him again—

Steve kissed his nose.

By the time Tony managed to reboot his brain, Steve had closed the passenger door and made it around to the driver’s seat.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Tony blinked, jerked his stare away from the window where Steve’s face had been. Steve just laughed and started up the car.

“Go back to sleep, Tony.”

He did intend to, but not before calculating the difference in distance between his cheek to his mouth and his nose to his mouth. His nose was much closer. Steve hadn’t done that before, it’d been all cheek kisses and top-of-the-head kisses and a few kisses to the back of Tony’s hand because Steve was a complete dork, but no nose kisses. Was Steve inching his way towards Tony’s mouth? Steve had been insistent that they didn’t need to practice actual kissing, but maybe he was just working himself up to it. Maybe it was weirder for him than the touchy-feely stuff. Steve was an affectionate, touchy guy to begin with, even with friends, but he didn’t go kissing friends on the mouth; maybe he was trying to psych himself up for it anyway, for the sake of the charade. Was he eventually just going to go for it and plant one on Tony with no warning, like he had with the nose kiss? And, more importantly, could Tony even handle a surprise Steve kiss without his brain exploding?

“I can’t help noticing you’re still awake, and seem very interested in that cup holder,” Steve commented eventually.

Tony blinked belatedly, slowly looking up from the cup holder. He studied Steve’s face instead, the strong line of his jaw and the way his hair was still slightly mussed, like he hadn’t been up much longer than Tony himself. He looked nice though, like he’d recently showered and cleaned himself up. Steve didn’t need to shave much—a hilarious bet their freshman year had proved how slow and patchy Steve’s facial hair came in—but he must’ve done it this morning, judging from how smooth his face looked and the small nick Tony noticed under his chin. Steve made the turn onto the freeway, and the change of direction let the early, pre-dawn light come in through the driver’s side of car. It lit up Steve’s profile like a halo, bright and briefly ethereal. Steve caught him looking, took his eyes from the road to shoot Tony a curious little smile.

Yeah, his brain would _definitely_ explode.

“Tony?” Steve queried again, amused.

“Nothing.” Tony shook his head, shuffled himself over so he was curled up facing the window instead. He was just tired, he’d stop thinking such weird thoughts after a nap. “Just getting back to sleep.”

“Alright,” Steve said agreeably. “Sleep well.”

It was six hours before Tony woke again, little over halfway through the trip. The sun had moved up in the sky and Steve had the radio turned on low.

_Ain’t no thing…ain’t no strings…_

“Bad grammar,” Tony commented idly as he turned over, kicking off the blankets and reaching for coffee.

“Sure is,” Steve agreed too quick, reaching over to jam the off button. The song stopped abruptly, but Tony didn’t take much notice; he was busy gulping down the coffee. It was cold and gross and he didn’t care in the slightest. “So, you’re up, that’s great, how’d you sleep?”

Tony shrugged. “Pretty well, all things considered. Thanks for the blanket cocoon, you didn’t have to do that. And the coffee. I bet it was good before I let it sit for six hours.”

“Of course, it’s no problem.” Steve’s fingers tapped along the steering wheel a little quickly, almost nervously. “You know, if you’re feeling up to it…”

The sentence dwindled. Tony resituated himself, stretched his arms above his head and cracked his neck to wake himself up a little, then gave his full attention to Steve. He owed the guy that much for a lot of reasons, not least of which was that Steve had been driving for six hours now without any real company.

“Hit me,” Tony prompted.

“Well…you still haven’t told me a whole lot about your family,” Steve hedged. Tony groaned. “No, listen, I’m not trying to pry, but if I’m going to meet them it’d be nice to at least know the basics, y’know? Who to be careful around, what topics I maybe should avoid, stuff like that.”

“Be careful around everyone, avoid everything that isn’t the weather.”

“That’s not helpful and you know it.”

Tony huffed a sigh, propped his feet up on the dash. Steve leaned over a little, looked like he was about to say something and swat Tony’s feet down, when he abruptly caught himself. Tony raised an eyebrow.

“You were about to chastise me for putting my feet on my own dashboard, weren’t you?”

Steve maintained a straight face for all of about six seconds. “…maybe.”

“You’re something else.” Tony grinned. It faded a little as he shook his head, glanced down at his hands. “So, you’ve heard about my dad.”

“Mostly that he insisted you go to this thing.”

“Right. He’s…I don’t know, he’s like that. Insistent. I’m his successor, so he’s trying to mold me in his name, and all that. Wants me to be good enough for the company, the legacy or whatever. Guess I’m not yet.”

“Why would you think that?” Steve glanced at him. “Dum-E’s so great you got a scholarship for him, and that AI program you’re working on, it's just—I mean, I know it's not finished yet, but it's still amazing. You're doing brilliant work."

"Brilliant for college, maybe. Stark Industries has higher expectations."

"Stark Industries or your dad?" Tony made a little humming noise in non-answer. Steve scoffed. "If your dad can’t see how smart you are, that’s on him, not you.”

Tony couldn’t help a smile. “You really do belong in a hallmark card, Rogers.”

Steve laughed. “You do know people can be sincere outside of hallmark cards, right?”

“Sure. I watch TV sometimes.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You know, when you react like this it just makes me think I should be sincere with you more often.”

“Sorry, are you trying to give me diabetes, or…?”

“Hilarious,” Steve said, wisely deciding not to push the subject. “So your dad’s focused on the business. Your mom?”

“She’s…she’s a really good host. She’ll probably be all over you, I think you’re the only new one this year.”

“New one?”

“Lots of us bring plus ones.” Tony shrugged. “Cousin Thor—don’t ask about the name, Aunt Felicity was crazy high on painkillers when she filled out the birth certificate, thought she was a Norse goddess, it’s a whole thing—but yeah, he’s been bringing Jane for…three years? Four years? He’s turning thirty this year though, so everyone’s about a thousand percent sure he’s going to propose sometime in the next couple months. Or knock her up. Or both, probably, whatever he has to do to lock her down. And cousin Bruce brought his girlfriend last year, Becca—no, Betty—she was nice, but I think they might’ve broken up. My younger cousin Jemma always brings Fitz ‘as a friend’, but we all know where _that’s_ going, so I guess it’s good he knows what he’s getting into with the family situation early.”

“Big family.” Steve seemed surprised.

“Did I not mention that?” It occurred to him that though he’d warned Steve repeatedly of the terribleness, he may have actually forgotten to mention the size, which was daunting in and of itself. “Yeah, we’re pretty big. There’s my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, way too many cousins—nobody in my family ever learned how to use condoms, apparently—then there’s my parents’ cousins, other assorted relatives…I don’t know the actual number, and since there’s a lot of plus ones things tend to fluctuate anyway.”

Steve stared at him like he’d grown another head. “That many people…jeez, where does everyone sleep?”

“Well, if you don’t have a plus one you’re—shit, I’ve got a plus one,” Tony realized.

“Who did you think was driving the car?” Steve joked, but Tony was too busy processing the fact that—

“We get a bedroom. I totally forgot about that, we’re over eighteen and you’re a romantic plus one, we get an actual bedroom.”

“I could be eighty and I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t fly at my mom’s house,” Steve mused. “I could get married, and I think she still might actually make my husband sleep on the pull-out.”

“I mean, I don’t know that my parents will love it or anything, but that’s the family rule.” The family rule that meant he was going to share a bed with _Steve freaking Rogers_. Tony really couldn’t handle thinking about that right now. “We don’t have enough bedrooms for everyone but adult couples always get bedrooms, then we start going down the list of oldest single people. Oh shit, we’re gonna steal Uncle Jack’s bedroom, he’s gonna be _pissed—”_

“Uncle Jack?”

“Not a real uncle, he’s my Dad’s cousin, but ‘Uncle Jack’ is easier than ‘second cousin Jack’. He’s a total douchebag, you’ll hate him.”

“I’m sure I won’t _hate_ —”

“He’s routinely misogynistic, homophobic, and more than a little racist,” Tony cut him off. Steve stayed tellingly silent. “So that’ll be fun. Just try not to punch him, that’s Aunt Peggy’s job.”

“And who’s she?”

“My dad’s sister, she’s awesome. Only sane family member I’ve got.”

“The one who punches people.”

“To be fair, it was just the once, and he _did_ drop the n word at her wedding. He didn’t have the balls to say it to Uncle Gabe’s face or anything, but Aunt Peggy heard him and decked him right there at the reception. She was still in her wedding dress and everything. It was pretty much the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve was starting to look concerned. “You weren’t kidding about having a wild family.”

“That’s not even the half of it. You sure about this?” Tony tried. “We can still turn around. I can tell them you got the flu or something, and amazing boyfriend that I am I simply couldn’t leave you alone to suffer—”

“Stop trying to escape, I’ve dug a week of practice and six hours of driving into this, I’m not turning back now,” Steve insisted determinedly. “Keep talking. Tell me about your cousins, how many?”

“You can’t count that high, honey bear.” Tony patted Steve’s shoulder.

“Ha ha.” Steve leaned over enough to elbow him. “Seriously, how many?”

“Seriously, I don’t know. The adults usually toss us all in the basement for the night and let us fight it out for who gets corners.”

“Corners?”

“The whole basement is just a bunch of mattresses on the floor. Corners means you have your back against a wall and it’s harder to get attacked.”

“Attacked?”

“Kicked, rolled on top of, wrestled with, shot by Nerf gun…take your pick. Also, the last couple years Tommy’s been thinking it’s hilarious to wake everyone up by sticking his armpits in their face, so if you’re curled up in the corner you have a better chance of hearing people’s shouts and waking up before he can get to you. That kind of thing.”

“That kind of thing,” Steve echoed. “Sure.”

“Don’t worry, nobody has died or been seriously maimed. Yet. And hey, we won’t even have to deal with it this year, so yay for that.”

“Yay for that,” Steve agreed. “So, who’re the main cousins then, the ones around your age?”

“Well, I told you about Thor. Big guy, lots of zeal. He might crush you a little when he hugs you, but don’t worry about it, he hasn’t broken any ribs yet. Good guy. Great drinking buddy. There’s Bruce, I think I mentioned him. Not actually a cousin, technically? I think? He’s like, the adopted kid of a cousin of an aunt of a stepdad, or something. I don’t know, but he’s only a year older than me and he’s pretty cool, smart too, total biology whiz. The guy knows his biology like I know my technology.”

“I’m not going to have to pass any IQ tests to get in the door, am I?” Steve joked.

“Nah, they’ll let anybody in. Cousin Clint, prime example.”

“Clint?”

“Year younger than me, total archery nut. He didn’t actually do half bad in the brains department, and he’s perceptive as shit when he’s paying attention, but traditional learning isn’t really his speed so he dropped out of college and went to the Olympics instead.”

“Of course, isn’t that what all college dropouts do?” Steve laughed, then froze. “Wait, do you mean Clint _Barton?”_

“Yeah, you’ve heard of him?”

“He got a gold medal last year, we—Tony, we spent the whole day watching the Olympics together, you didn’t think to mention your cousin was in them?”

“Honestly, I try to pretend I’m not related to him, you should be happy I’m even telling you now.”

“I just thought…” Steve looked vaguely disappointed. “Why wouldn’t you tell me something like that?”

“Steve, the guy moonwalked up to the podium on national television, why would I tell _anyone_ I was related to that human disaster?”

“I wouldn’t have made fun of you.” Steve was still doing something dangerously close to pouting. Tony had zero resistance for Steve pouts.

“Hey, come on, I know that, and I knew it at the time, I just…” They’d been brand new friends, and Tony hadn’t yet managed to stifle his crush on Steve; he’d wanted Steve to like him, not think of him as that guy with the weirdo cousin. “Did I mention the phrase human disaster? We’d only just become friends, I didn’t want you to think I was like him. I'm not the kind of weirdo who would do stuff like that.”

“Tony.” Steve took his gaze from the road long enough to shoot Tony an amused, mildly exasperated look. “I’ve seen your inventing dance.”

“That’s different!” Tony shoved his shoulder.

“Hey! Driving!” Steve protested, thought the road was totally empty and his steering didn’t swerve an inch. “And I don’t see how it’s any different—”

“He did it in public, I _thought_ I was alone!”

“I texted you that I—”

“I was in a groove, I wasn’t looking at my phone, or expecting psychos to sneak up on me in the middle of the night—”

“I bring you coffee at that time at least twice a week, don’t act like _I’m_ the crazy one here—”

“Steve Rogers, are you implying that I’m crazy? Because that is _terrible_ boyfriend behavior, I am shocked and appalled. I might have to demote you.”

“To what? Only ‘perfect’ boyfriend instead of ‘best ever’? I think I’ll manage to take the hit with grace.” Steve grinned at him. “So you both dance when you get excited. It’s not a big deal, Tony. It’s cute.”

“I’ll be sure and tell Clint you think he’s cute, he’ll love that.”

“Sure.” Steve rolled his eyes. “You tell him I said that. Because I was definitely talking about a guy I saw on TV for thirty seconds, once, more than a year ago, and not my boyfriend.”

“Fake.” Tony cleared his throat, glanced out the window instead of at Steve. “Fake boyfriend. Nobody’s watching right now, you don’t have to say stuff like that.”

“I…yeah, no, I know that. But we’ll be there in a few hours, we should probably get in the habit of dropping the ‘fake’ when we say it out loud.” Steve sucked in a breath, changed the subject abruptly. “You’re probably starving, you didn’t get breakfast. There’s a rest stop coming up in a mile or so, why don’t we stop?”

“Sounds great,” Tony agreed quickly, more than happy to ignore how awkward he’d just made things.

He hadn’t meant to, it was just…strange, hearing Steve say something like that out loud. He was right, of course, because Steve seemed to always be right when it came to these kinds of things; they needed to start dropping the ‘fake’, or they’d slip while they were there. But Tony just _had_ to go and be a dick, he couldn’t just fall into the charade like Steve and let things be easy. He had to be difficult. He always had to be fucking difficult.

This weekend was going to be a whole hell of a lot harder than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Steve gets all weird about is the supremely cheesy and very obviously titled, "Falling in Love (With My Best Friend)" by Matt White :P


	3. Chapter 3

They wound up at a Denny’s, because they could probably drive out to the middle of the Sahara desert and still manage to wind up at a Denny’s.

Steve had ordered his traditional onslaught of food and was now eating even faster than usual, a feat Tony hadn’t actually thought possible, most likely in an attempt to cover up the fact that neither of them had said a whole lot since Tony’s weird over-correction back in the car. The awkward silence was even more unbearable than Tony would’ve imagined; this was _Steve,_ they hadn’t had an awkward silence between them since…ever, that Tony could recall. Maybe that one time Tony got really drunk and hit on Steve by accident, but even then it’d only been a minute or two until Steve recovered, brought him water, and eventually put him to bed, because Steve was an amazing fucking person and Tony was an idiot.

Steve deserved better; Tony was going to _be_ better. He was going to be the best damn fake boyfriend there ever was, starting right the hell now.

He stretched out in the booth a little to tap Steve’s ankle with his foot, leaning across at the same time to stab a bite of Steve’s eggs. Steve looked a bit startled by the actions, but didn’t instinctively jerk away from Tony’s touch or anything, so Tony probably hadn’t fucked anything up too terribly. Probably. 

“These’re good,” he lied, gesturing with his fork. Diner eggs, ugh. He should’ve tried the pancakes, they would’ve at least had less grease.

“They are, yeah.” Steve still sounded a little unsure. Tony forged forward.

“So, I’m thinking I can drive the rest of the way.” They only had something like four hours left anyway, a better boyfriend would’ve taken over at the halfway mark. Well, a better boyfriend wouldn’t have made Steve drive at all, but there wasn’t anything Tony could do about that now. “Since you pulled morning shift, which not only included driving but apparently Tony-hauling duties, sorry again about that—”

“Don’t be sorry.” Steve smiled, finally. “It wasn’t hard. And if we’re being perfectly honest, I was kind of expecting it.”

“Then you know me too well for your own good.” Tony laughed.

“Maybe.” Steve’s smile widened a little. “I know you well enough to know you hated the eggs.”

“No,” Tony drew it out a syllable or four. “Definitely not. I loved them, so much, all the…tastes, and things, who knew grease was a flavor? Not me, but yum-o.”

Steve flicked Tony’s hand. “Grease isn’t a flavor. Why’d you steal them if you don’t even like them?”

“How was I supposed to know I wouldn’t like them?” Tony shrugged, using the nearness of Steve’s hand to his advantage and linking their fingers together. At the same time, he used his free hand to steal a bite of pancakes. “All _I_ know is you’re hogging the food.”

“I told you to order more!” Steve insisted, squeezed his hand for emphasis. “You never order enough.”

“I’ve had four whole—”

“Cups of coffee don’t count.”

“I ordered, received, and will pay for them, won’t I?”

“Coffee’s a drink, not a food.”

“Coffee comes from beans, beans are a food.”

“Beans in their whole, proper form are a food, beans liquefied into coffee are a drink. Get a waffle, you like their waffles.”

“I _tolerate_ their waffles.”

“With the disgusting amount of syrup you use it’s not like you’ll taste it anyway.” Steve waved to the waitress. “He’ll have a waffle, extra syrup, and one of your fruit side plates. Thank you.”

“What, no, I won’t—”

“Your breakfast can’t be four cups of coffee and a syrup-drowned waffle, Tony, you need some kind of—”

“Cancel that,” Tony ordered to the waitress, who looked largely unimpressed.

“Don’t cancel that, please, he’s fine.” Steve shook his head to her, and, because apparently the world was colluding against Tony, she walked off without cancelling the order.

“So you hate me now, that’s how it is.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Steve squeezed his hand. Tony belatedly realized they were still doing that. “I just think it might be nice for you to live past thirty, and not die of some crazy, too-much-coffee-and-poor-nutrition induced heart attack.”

“Ugh.” Tony groaned, planting his face on the table. “You’re making this impossible.”

“Making what impossible?” Despite Tony’s dramatic faceplant, Steve only sounded amused. He really did know Tony too well for his own good. Or maybe for Tony’s own good.

“I’m _trying_ to be the good boyfriend here, but now you’re taking care of my health?” Tony complained. “What the hell, Steve, come on.”

“Okay, first of all, you’re a great boyfriend, and second I don’t see why we can’t both—” Steve was interrupted by Tony’s snort of disbelief. “You _are_ , what makes you think you’re not?”

“Everything?” Tony threw his hands up vaguely. “I keep getting the motions wrong and I triple-guess myself on everything and you’re just—you make it look so _easy,_ why is this so easy for you?”

“Nobody said this was easy for me.” Steve ran his thumb over the back of Tony’s hand. “And nobody said I’m not triple-guessing myself either. But Tony, think about it, a lot of this stuff…two weeks ago, you don’t think I’d have ordered you a side of fruit then too? That wasn’t me trying to play any sort of role, that’s just something we _do._ And you do plenty of those things too, you just don’t think about them. Who spent three hours making and running flashcards with me so I didn’t completely fail my philosophy exam last week?”

“I did, but that’s different—”

“It’s really not. You’re always doing things like that, helping me out and cheering me up and dragging me out on adventures when I need the break; you know what I need, sometimes even when I don’t, because you know me, just like I know you. If I ordered something with peanuts…?”

“I’d cancel it and call you crazy,” Tony admitted. “But everyone knows you’re allergic, that’s not a secret.”

“Does everyone carry an extra epipen for me?” Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

“We’ll be gone the whole weekend, you could’ve forgotten yours!” Tony protested. “And what were you doing digging through my suitcase, weirdo?”

“I didn’t dig. You didn’t zip up your suitcase properly, so when I tried to take it to the car this morning everything fell out.”

“Oh.” Tony looked away, embarrassed. “ _Everything_ , everything, or…?”

“If you’re talking about your Captain America boxers, I saw them, and if you think I’m at all surprised then you’re vastly underestimating how well I know you. You remember telling me you’ve jerked off to a poster of him, right?”

“Oh, god.” Tony buried his face in his hands. He’d completely forgotten about that. But to be fair… “It’s not like I don’t have dirt on you, Rogers. You ever tell anyone about that and I’ll tell them about the Reese’s cup disaster.”

“That’s fair.” Steve grinned. “But if you do that, then I’ll have to tell them about the frog incident when you were fourteen.”

“You blab about the frog incident and I tell Bucky what you did to his favorite shirt.”

“You wouldn’t _dare,”_ Steve warned gravely, but he was grinning and they were still playing very active footsie under the table, so it was hard to take him seriously. The waitress approached the table with Tony’s waffle and—ugh—fruit plate, so Tony took the opportunity.

“Hey, did you know that when this guy was sixteen, he thought it’d be a great idea to use his best friend’s shirt to—”

Steve dove across the table to firmly clamp a hand over Tony’s mouth, then shot the waitress a polite smile. “He’s finished, thanks for the food.”

She rolled her eyes at them and kept walking. Tony licked Steve’s palm.

“Am I supposed to be scared of your spit?” Steve only snorted, smirk in place and eyebrow raised in challenge. “I told you how I won ultimate darefest last year, didn’t I?”

Tony smacked Steve’s hand from his mouth and grabbed a napkin, started wiping frantically at his mouth. He wasn’t a germ freak, but the places that hand had been made him want a shower. Steve just laughed, the bastard.

“You’re disgusting,” Tony informed him.

“It was last year.” Steve waved him off cavalierly, teased, “I’ve washed my hands since. Probably.”

“Disgusting,” Tony reiterated firmly, pouring syrup over his waffle.

“Says the guy who drowns his waffles.” Steve rolled his eyes. “All you’re doing is making it soggy and gross.”

“I’m making it sweet and flavorful, you ingrate.”

“You have the tastebuds of an orangutan.”

“Well, _you_ have the manners of one.” Tony emphasized his point with a flick of his foot against Steve’s.

“I’ll have you know I’m a perfect gentleman.” Steve stabbed one of Tony’s fruit, held it up at him pointedly.

“You’re a delusional gentleman, if you really think I’m eating that.” Tony squinted at it, like if he examined it hard enough it might disappear. “What is that, sour cantaloupe?”

“It’s melon.”

“What kind of melon?”

“It’s just melon, Tony.”

“Looks like sour cantaloupe.”

“Probably because cantaloupe is a kind of melon.”

“The ripe kind.”

“The different fruit kind.”

“So by different, you mean properly grown and with an actual taste?”

“Fine.” Steve scraped off the ‘melon’ and speared a piece of cantaloupe instead. “Have the cantaloupe, then.”

“Are we sure that’s real cantaloupe?”

“What exactly is ‘fake cantaloupe’?”

“You tell me, you’re the one trying to feed it to—” His sentence was cut off abruptly as Steve cheated, using Tony’s talking to pop the cantaloupe in his open mouth. Tony muttered through his mouthful, “Cheater.”

“Did you say ‘feed me more, pretty please’?” Steve had the audacity to bat his eyes. “Sure thing, whatever you say, snookums.”

Tony swallowed the terrible, probably-fake cantaloupe. “I hate you.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Steve grinned, not perturbed in the slightest.

One waffle and half a plate of fruit later, they agreed it was probably time to get back on the road. Steve made to get the check and Tony kicked him proper, no pretensions of footsie.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Jesus, ow.” Steve bent down to rub at his shin under the table. “It’s my turn, what’re you—”

“There are no turns this weekend,” Tony told him firmly. He didn’t even like letting Steve pay under normal circumstances, there was no way in hell he was letting him pay now. “You’re doing me pretty much the world’s weirdest favor, you’re not paying for a damn thing.”

“Tony—”

“Nope.” Tony cut him off, passed the waitress his card and the check. “My boyfriend’s delusional, please excuse him.”

“Sure.” The waitress, still entirely unimpressed by their antics—to be fair it was a Denny’s, she’d definitely seen worse—took his card and left. Steve made a face at him.

“Fake boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Tony disagreed. “You were right, I was a dick. If we keep saying ‘fake’ and cracking jokes about it, we’ll wind up doing it at the retreat. So I’m just…your boyfriend. Your totally awesome, paying-for-everything boyfriend.”

“Sounds more like you’re my sugar daddy.” Steve grinned.

“If you joke about that while we’re there, they’ll believe you,” Tony warned.

“What?” Steve snorted. “No.”

“What, you don’t think I would?”

“Spoil someone you loved absolutely rotten?” Steve’s grin softened to a smile. “Of course you would. But I wouldn’t let you, so it’s a moot point.”

“Why not? What’s the point of having a rich boyfriend if you don’t get access to my credit cards?” Tony joked, but he could tell immediately that Steve didn’t think he was joking.

“The point of having a rich boyfriend is that ‘he’ is you, and you’re amazing. You don’t have to buy my affection, Tony.” Steve squeezed his hand. “Not as a friend, and not as a boyfriend.”

“‘Buy’ is such an ugly word.” Tony mulled it over. “More like, ‘ensure the continuation of’.”

“Sounds just as ugly to me,” Steve disagreed. “Did Ty make you do that?”

Tony drew his hand back. “I don’t want to talk about Ty.”

“I know he did.” Steve didn’t try and take Tony’s hand again, but he didn’t lean away, either. “From the things you said, and from the things I saw you do. That’s not what a relationship should be like, Tony. Not a healthy one.”

“Oh, gee, I guess I forgot you knew everything about everything,” Tony snapped.

“I don’t know everything.” Steve stayed annoyingly calm. “But I do know that you of all people deserve to be liked—to be _loved—_ for who you are, not for the things you can provide or the influence you can give. But you’re generous to a fault sometimes and Ty’s a bastard for taking advantage of that. I would never.”

“Steve, nobody with half a brain would mistake you for Ty, okay? You can lay off with the afterschool special, I know you’re not a dick. Usually,” Tony joked, staying flippant. It was easier than over-thinking things, than reading into Steve’s insistence that Tony was someone who deserved…whatever it was Steve seemed to think he deserved.

“That’s not my point.” Steve sighed, seeming vaguely frustrated now. “I just mean—”

The waitress returned with the receipt and his card, so Tony used the excuse to fast-track the conversation. “You mean that Ty’s a dick and I shouldn’t date dicks, message received. Come on, we have to get back on the road if we want to make it there for lunch.”

“That’s not—” Steve put his head in his hands for a moment, muttered into them, “Fine, yeah. Let’s get on the road.”

“If you’re having trouble, I could give you a piggyback ride out there.”

That got a laugh out of Steve, thankfully. He lifted his head and scooted out of the booth. “I probably shouldn’t break you just a few hours before meeting your parents for the first time.”

Tony scoffed. “You wouldn’t _break_ me.”

“I weigh over two hundred pounds, Tony.”

“And I’m really fucking strong, _Steve,_ are you suggesting otherwise?”

“Never.” Steve put on his innocent face. It was a very good innocent face, but after two years of seeing firsthand the kind of shit Steve could pull, its effect on Tony at this point was basically zero. “You’re just about the strongest fella I know.”

“Don’t Brooklyn-accent me!” Tony accused.

Steve burst out laughing, only managing to stop long enough to ask, “Did you really just use ‘Brooklyn accent’ as a verb?”

“It _is_ a verb when you deliberately weaponize it against me!”

“I didn’t ‘deliberately weaponize’ anything—”

“You know exactly what you did.” Tony shook his head, not buying it for a second. It was only after Steve walked out the door that Tony realized he’d held it open for him. Without even thinking about it.

And okay, he probably still wasn’t winning any boyfriend of year awards, but doing nice, casual boyfriend things without having to think about them first was definitely a step up. He grinned a little to himself, and caught Steve grinning back.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Steve bumped his hip a little as they made their way to the car. “I’m just happy you’re not thinking about it so much anymore. It’s easy if you don’t think about it, right?”

“Yep.” Tony picked up the pace a little, unlocked the car with the clicker and went to hold the passenger door open for Steve too. “So suck on that.”

“You know we’re not actually competing for best boyfriend, right?” Steve shot him a look, amused but seeming a little intrigued despite himself.

“Maybe _you’re_ not.” Tony grinned. “Honey.”

“You sure you wanna play that game?” Steve leaned against the car door, face bare inches from Tony’s as he smiled just a little too sweetly. “Babe?”

“Bring it on, sweetheart.”

“If you say so, cupcake.”

“Get in the car, angel.”

“Make me, sugar.”

“Oh, I’ll make you, muffin.”

Tony tried to catch Steve by surprise, but Steve just dug his feet in and barely moved at all. Tony threw his whole weight against him in a terrible attempt at a tackle, but Steve caught him instead, arms tight around Tony’s middle as he swung him around and stuffed Tony into the car instead.

“Cheating! Cheater! Good boyfriends aren’t cheaters!” Tony protested, but Steve just snorted and closed the door on him. He started to go around to the driver’s seat, which was completely unacceptable, so Tony hit the door lock button and scrambled across the divider. “You are _not_ driving, Steve!”

“You sure about that?” Steve leaned against his window.

“It’s my car, I have the keys, and I am fully prepared to sit here all weekend until you cave and get in the passenger seat. In fact, it’d be an upgrade from the retreat. I can live off Denny’s for three days if it means not going, can you?”

Steve sighed, but there was a fond smile itching at his lips. “We’re not skipping the retreat, Tony.”

“Then you’re getting in the passenger seat.” Tony bat his eyes. “Darling.”

Steve tried staring him down for moment, but eventually just sighed again, smile wider now as he walked around the car. He opened the passenger door and slid inside. “Alright, you win. You’re the best boyfriend, I simply can’t compete.”

“If you think this ends here, you don’t know me at all.” Tony grinned at him, put the car in gear.

“If you think I’d give up that easily without a plan, you don’t know _me_ at all,” Steve shot back with a smirk. He finished buckling in and took Tony’s free hand.

A Steve with a plan was a very dangerous Steve indeed. Tony shot him a sidelong glance. Steve just kept up his little smirk. When Tony narrowed his eyes, Steve leaned across the divider and kissed his cheek.

“Good plans only, I promise,” Steve told him.

“Good for you and good for me are two very different things,” Tony muttered.

“Only sometimes.” Steve laughed. “This plan’s good for you too. Cross my heart.”

“And I’m supposed to believe the cheater who not only Brooklyn-accented me by surprise but used his muscles to throw me in the car?”

“I still don’t understand how putting you in the car was cheating, you were trying to do the same to me.” Steve shot him a grin. “I was just better at it.”

“That’s how it’s cheating,” Tony told him decisively.

“What, it’s cheating that I’m stronger than you?”

“Definitely. I’ve seen your kiddie pictures Rogers, a couple years ago I could’ve thrown you over my shoulder fireman-style.”

“I was scrappier than you’d think.” Steve glanced aside. “And if I still looked like that we wouldn’t even be here, so it doesn’t count.”

That...didn’t make any sense. “What do you mean, we wouldn’t be here? Did tiny-you not eat Denny’s?”

“Tiny-me ate Denny’s.” Steve chuckled a little. “I just mean…I don’t know, it’s not like you’d want to bring some scrawny little nothing home to your family, so we just—we wouldn’t be on this trip, that’s all.”

Tony stared at him for a long minute, then stared some more until Steve’s eyes widened and he jerked forward, letting go of Tony’s hand to grab the steering wheel and yank it straight. “Jesus, Tony, watch the road—”

“You think I’m bringing you home because you have a couple _muscles?”_

“Well, no, not only because—”

“Look, Steve, the muscles are nice and all, but if you were just some meathead I wouldn’t even _consider_ letting you around my family. They’re terrifying so I don’t love subjecting you to them, but they’re also judgmental as shit and I’ll tell you one thing I haven’t worried about the past couple days: they’re not going to think for one second that you’re anything less than fucking amazing.”

Steve glanced at his hands. “I thought you said they’d disapprove.”

“Of us both being guys, sure, I can almost guarantee they’re going to try and set you up with Jan or something instead—and to be fair, her boyfriend’s an abusive dickwad, she does deserve a Steve in her life—”

“A Steve?” Steve had a small, strange sort of smile on his face. Like he was touched, maybe. Good.

“Yeah, a Steve. A really fucking good person, who treats the people they care about like…” Tony tried to put to words how Steve made people feel. How he made Tony feel. “Like they matter. Like they’re important and special and—and precious, you know? You’re just, you’re really fucking good at that. Making people feel good.”

Steve’s smile was growing, crooked but sincere. “You’re pretty damn good at it yourself.”

“I can be not-totally-hopeless when I want to be,” Tony admitted, though Steve may have been the only person to share that opinion. “But you’re—you kind of radiate good intentions. You’re pretty much the only person I’ve ever known that might actually stand up to the insane scrutiny my family puts on outsiders. Hell, the only real problem with this plan is that when I don’t bring you back next year, they’re going to give me shit about it until the end of time.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand—”

“No, really.” Tony snorted. “I’ll be like sixty and married to some other loser, and the whole family will still be bitching about how ‘well, they’re no _Steve,_ that’s for sure’.”

“Married to ‘some other loser’? That’s no way to talk about your future spouse,” Steve teased.

“Well, once you meet a Steve everyone else tends to fall pretty tragically short.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it cut way too close to the truth. Steve looked a little stunned, so Tony quickly followed it up with, “I mean, who else would feed me fake-cantaloupe in a Denny’s? That’s the true gold standard right there.”

“I’m pretty sure anyone who even halfway likes you would be more than willing to feed you fake-cantaloupe in a Denny’s.” Steve rolled his eyes, back to be being amused.

“I don’t know where the hell they are then,” Tony grumbled. “I’ve only been single a billion years.”

Steve rolled his eyes again. “You’ve been single barely a month, Tony.”

“Whitney doesn’t count, we only dated for a few weeks.” Tony waved him off. And she’d been using him for his money the whole time, but hey, that was apparently what dating Tony was for.

“Okay, a couple months, then,” Steve corrected himself. “That’s still not that long.”

“I guess.” It felt longer. Probably because apparently none of his relationships had been particularly normal, he supposed. At least not if what he was doing with Steve was supposed to be standard practice. There hadn’t been any hand-holding or door-opening or cheek-kisses or…anything, really. Coffee sometimes. Talking occasionally. Whitney dragged him out shopping a lot, but mostly to swipe his card and make him hold the bags. “I guess I just wish…”

He closed his mouth again before he made an idiot of himself. He’d never been the hate-to-be-single type; he was good on his own, better than good, great. He liked his time to himself and when he didn’t want to be alone he had his friends, he had Steve. It wasn’t like he was off pining in a corner or anything. It was just that after this week, he was maybe starting to understand what he’d been missing out on.

“You wish?” Steve prompted. Tony shook his head.

“Just thinking, don’t worry about it.”

Steve watched him another minute. “You sure?”

Tony kept his eyes on the road. Talking to Steve was easy, always had been, but not making eye contact made it a little easier.

“I guess it just never occurred to me I could have a relationship like this. That I could even want one. And I’m not an idiot, I know this isn’t real,” he added quickly so Steve didn’t get the wrong idea. “But I just mean…I always thought those really affectionate, always-together kinds of relationships were sort of dumb. That people who needed their significant other to also be like their best friend were just needier, or something. But this week with you…I realized I like it. I like being with someone who actually—I don’t know, who cares about me, or whatever. I want that.”

“You want a relationship like ours?” Steve asked slowly. His voice was oddly soft, a little hesitant, and Tony wasn’t sure why until he realized what he might’ve accidentally implied.

“Not with you,” Tony backtracked hastily. He may have been letting himself feel a little more sentimental than usual with all the couple-y affections they had going on right now, but that didn’t mean he was an idiot. He knew that would never be an option. “I didn’t mean it like—I’m not trying to put the moves on you, I just meant this week has been really nice, and it made me realize that relationships can be like that. Not with you, but just, y’know. In general. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird—”

“Right, no, I get it. That’s great.” Steve nodded. He was looking out the window now. “You deserve that. I feel like I’ve been telling you that for a while.”

“No, you have, it just…never felt possible before, I guess.”

“And now it does?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said honestly. “Maybe I was the problem. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to be doing, maybe now that you’ve taught me a few things and I’ve got half a clue—”

“You can go out and find someone to be happy with,” Steve finished for him, a little shortly. “That’s great, Tony. And I’m happy for you, but I was up kind of early so I think I’m gonna sleep for a little while if that’s alright.”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded quickly. Steve was tired and Tony was yapping on about his feelings; nice. That boyfriend of the year award was only moving farther and farther away. “Yes, definitely, sleep as long as you want. I’ll wake you when we’re there.”

“Thanks.” Steve shuffled over a little bit onto his side, so he was curled up in the blankets and facing the car door.

Steve didn’t seem to sleep much—Steve usually snored and Tony didn’t hear anything—but Tony was hoping it would help just to close his eyes and rest a while. They’d been up really early, Steve even earlier than him to prepare the coffee and set up the blanket cocoon, and this afternoon was going to be crazy stressful. He deserved a rest. He deserved a lot of things. Tony watched him a little, as much as he could without going off the road, and couldn’t quite stop himself from wondering. Steve pretending to be his boyfriend was better than any real relationship Tony had ever had; what would it be like if Steve felt that way about him for real?

He remembered what it was like to see Steve with Sharon, way back when they’d all just been starting their freshman year; he’d been the picture of a doting boyfriend, kind and caring and perfectly sweet, so obviously smitten with her. Everyone could see how much he cared about her, how special she was to him. Steve would never look at him that way and it was an exercise in heartbreak to hope that he would, but Tony couldn’t help it. He’d never been good at inspiring people to care about him that way. Even friendship could be difficult; he’d basically imprinted on Rhodey like a baby duck, and Pepper had always loved her lost causes. Steve…well, Tony didn’t really know how he’d managed to snag Steve. It was kind of a miracle, actually.

Despite their Denny’s break, they wound up arriving almost half an hour ahead of schedule. The cabin looked the same as always, a towering mass of wood and metal, covered in snow and dust and dirt. It was large, even for the neighborhood, mostly because various structural-engineer-minded Starks had made additions over the years. There was smoke coming from the chimney and people could be seen bustling around in the windows; this was really happening, then. Tony sighed, leaned forward until his forehead was pressed against the top of the steering wheel. He should’ve tried faking his own death. He’d been saving that for a particularly bad year, but he had an ominous feeling now that this might be that year.

“Hey.” Tony wasn’t sure when Steve had woken up, but he was shuffling over now to rub a hand down Tony’s back. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“Thanks, but it’s really not.”

“Come on, none of that.” Steve ducked his head enough that Tony could see him out of the corner of his eye, smiling encouragingly. “We got this, right? It’s barely three days.”

“Three terrible, torturous days. Seventy-two hours, four thousand three hundred and twenty minutes, two hundred fifty-nine thousand and two hundred seconds—”

“Don’t think about it as that long with them. Think about it as that long hanging out with me; we can hide in the room and play video games, go snowboarding on the mountain, sneak out for lunch somewhere, whatever you want.”

That…wasn’t a terrible way to think about it. “Promise you won’t let me get stuck alone with them?”

“Promise.” Steve leaned in, kissed the side of his head. “Come on, up and at ‘em. I think we’ve been spotted.”

Considering five year old Tommy was now speeding down the steps screaming _Tony’s here!_ at the top of his lungs, it was a pretty good guess.


	4. Chapter 4

“Tony’s here Tony’s here Tony’s here!” Tommy cheered, plastering himself to the car. “Tony! You’re here!”

“Guess I am, short stuff.” Tony sighed. He was gathering his things and about to open the car door, when he noticed the flood of children pouring out of the house after Tommy. “Oh, crap.”

“That’s a bad word!” Tommy informed him cheerfully as Billy, his twin, ran into the car so fast he bounced right off it and fell on his butt.

“Tony’s here!” Billy whooped from the ground, already shoving himself up.

“How come you’re late?” Kate demanded.

“Who’s that?” Cassie peered around the side of the car, a couple kids following her lead.

“Oh, no, don’t block the—” Steve started, but the kids were already pressing up against his window, effectively blocking his exit. Nathan was so close his nose was smudging against the glass.

“Gross, Nate, get your boogers off my car!” Tony insisted. Nathan just grinned. The little brat jammed a finger up his nose, retrieved more boogers, and proceeded to wipe them on Steve’s window. “Great. That’s great. Can we leave now?”

Steve, the bastard, was trying and failing not to laugh. “We can’t leave, we just got here—”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Kate interrupted, banging on the glass with her tiny fist. “Get outta the car, buddy!”

“Buddy?” Tony mouthed at Steve, confused and a little affronted. He turned back to Kate. “I’m your cousin, not your ‘buddy’, and I don’t take orders from you.”

“Who’re you?” Cassie asked Steve.

“I’m Steve.” Steve waved a little. “I’d shake your hand, but you’d have to let me out of the car.”

Cassie didn’t budge. “Are you Tony’s date?”

“Sure am.”

“Guys, Tony brought a date!” Cassie hollered back at the house.

“A _boy_ date!” Billy peered at Steve curiously, like he was some sort of new species.

“Why are you still in the car?” Kate demanded.

“Because there’s a pipsqueak blocking it, that’s why,” Tony shot back. Kate gasped, horrified and insulted.

“I am _not_ a—”

“Tony brought a what now?” Wanda started down the steps, glancing curiously amongst the kids. Probably looking for her own—Billy and Tommy.

“A boy date,” Billy echoed.

“A _Steve_ ,” Cassie corrected primly.

“Oh.” Wanda’s gaze landed on Steve. She gave him the look-over, both eyebrows rising.

“Don’t start,” Tony warned. She wasn’t related to him by blood—which was fairly obvious, she and her twin were Romani—but she’d married Tony’s cousin Victor pretty much the day they turned eighteen, something like five or six years ago now, so Tony was more than comfortable around her. She was actually pretty cool most of the time, but wouldn’t hesitate for a second to tease him.

“I was only going to say hello,” she objected.

“Sure you were.” Tony snorted.

“Are you gonna get married?” Cassie asked.

“Jesus, no. We’re barely twenty-one.”

“And what’s wrong with getting married young?” Wanda raised an eyebrow dangerously.

“Nothing at all,” Tony corrected quickly. “Have I mentioned lately that you’re my favorite? Because you totally are.”

“Must be comforting to know your significant other is a terrible liar,” Wanda smirked at Steve. “No secrets.”

“Please, Steve’s shittier at it than—”

“Language.” Wanda put her hands over the nearest child’s ears.

“He’s _worse_ at it than I am,” Tony corrected himself with a roll of his eyes.

“That’s what Tony tells himself, anyway.” Steve waved at Wanda. “Steve Rogers, hi. I’d shake your hand, but…”

“Kids, away from the car, honestly.” Wanda shooed them. “Let Steve out.”

“And Tony!” Tony added. Wanda shrugged.

The kids finally cleared a path and Tony was able to squeeze himself out of the car. He could get the suitcases later. At the moment, he was a little more concerned with the adults starting to spill out of the house. No signs of Uncle Jack—Tony’s main concern, if he was being honest—but he did catch the anxiety in his mom’s expression before she saw him and schooled it away. While Steve and Wanda made their introductions, Tony went over to her.

“Tony, honey, hi.” She came over to him, pulled him into a hug. “So you were serious about this date thing, hm?”

The bisexuality ‘thing’, she meant. “Not really something I’d lie about.”

“Yes, well…it’s all very new, isn’t it?” She squeezed his shoulder. “I thought your father might’ve been joking.”

“Because he’s _such_ a jokester.” Tony rolled his eyes.

“He has his moments.” His mother just smiled a little, gave him another squeeze. “It’s good to see you, Tony. It’s been too long. Why don’t you introduce me?”

“Yeah, sure, uh…” Tony glanced over his shoulder, where Steve was already squeezing his way through the crowd of children to come around the car. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Steve. Steve…this is my mom.”

“Mrs. Stark.” Steve smiled widely, extended a hand to her. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” Mom glanced at Tony, looking a little lost. “Your father didn’t mention…how long have you been together?”

“A couple months,” Tony said at the same time Steve said, “A year.”

Shit. They really should’ve talked about that in the car.

“Oh, how long—yeah, no, he’s right.” Tony was definitely making way too many hand gestures right now. “Definitely right, because it’d sure be hard to get a thing like that wrong, in total it’s a year but I—”

“He prefers to count from when we got serious,” Steve finished for him. Tony was so grateful he could’ve kissed him.

“Yep, I do that,” Tony agreed. “And we’re definitely very serious now, thus the whole…meeting the family thing. So. Who’s hungry? I’m starving, it’s almost lunch, isn’t it?”

His mom gave him a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to be nervous, I don’t mean to interrogate you.”

“No, of course not.” Tony nodded quickly. “I know that, I’m just really hungry because we haven’t eaten in a while, so…”

“Alright.” She glanced at Steve. “Lunch will be ready soon, why don’t you come inside and make your introductions?”

Introducing Steve around was…an event, to say the least, and they had to repeat how they met at least fifteen times. When Tony told the story, he got nods and ‘oh’s, which made sense, since it wasn’t some crazy meet-cute or anything: Steve had been one of the last to move into the dorms and Tony had just so happened to be around to offer his help. But Steve kept jumping in to add what happened after that, how they’d gotten caught up hanging out, talking and playing video games and goofing around until very, very early in the morning, at which point they fell asleep on the couch together and slept right through their first classes of freshman year. For some reason, Tony making Steve miss his first classes kept eliciting ‘aww’s. Tony didn’t understand it at all.

“That’s so sweet.”Jemma beamed. “Meant to be from minute one.”

“Sure felt like it,” Steve agreed, an adorably pleased little smile playing on his lips.

Tony had to admit, the guy was a damn better actor than Tony had ever given him credit for. He didn’t just have a couple details thought out, wasn’t just going through the motions of handholding and putting an arm around Tony’s shoulders; there was something about his expressions, something extra in his reactions that never fell short of genuine. Tony wasn’t surprised in the least that the family was basically eating it up. Tony himself would’ve bought it, had he not known the truth all too well.

“To be fair, I mean, it wasn’t like we started making eyes at each other right then and there,” Tony reasoned. “It was gradual, we built up to it—”

“Let me guess, Steve had to ask you out first.” Jemma rolled her eyes. “And you were so incredibly shocked it was happening at all that he probably had to repeat himself at least three times.”

“Of course not,” Steve cut in. Tony shot him a grateful look, only to see Steve’s smile turn to a grin. “Only twice.”

Tony elbowed him. “What, like it’s crazy I would be surprised? We’re friends, him asking me out would be—it came out of nowhere.”

“Really, Tony?” Steve raised an eyebrow. “ _Nowhere?_ Nothing at all gave you any kind of a hint that I might be interested?”

What, was Steve saying that didn’t sound believable? He backtracked, tried to tone it down a little. “I mean, maybe there was something…a couple moments? But we’re attractive people, any two attractive people in a friendship are going to have a moment or two where it’s acknowledged that they’re attractive, that’s just—that doesn’t mean you _like_ me.”

“You’re hopeless.” Steve sighed a little, but he was smiling too much for it to really have an effect.

“You ought to have made a sign,” Jemma suggested, splaying her hands out like a headliner. “‘Hey Tony: date me’.”

Steve laughed. “Believe me, it crossed my mind.”

“What, like you’re so perceptive, Jem?” Tony pointedly directed his gaze across the room, where Fitz was talking with Aunt Peggy and Uncle Gabe’s kid, Tripp. “Fitz has been to how many family retreats now?”

“He’s a _friend,”_ Jemma hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

“Steve was a friend.” Tony smirked. “Hey, Fitz!”

“Huh? Oh hey!” Fitz grinned when he caught sight of Tony. Fitz was a smart kid, and they’d bonded over their shared love of science more than a handful of times.

“Don’t you dare!” Jemma gripped Tony’s arm and dug in her nails as Fitz made his way across the crowded living room. When Tony just laughed, she turned to Steve pleadingly. “Steve, help?”

“He wouldn’t,” Steve assured her, sounding awful certain of himself.

“Someone’s cocky,” Tony replied as Fitz approached.

“Who? No, wait, I can guess, Skye’s date, right?” Fitz snorted, putting his hands on his hips and making a show of dropping his voice. “I’m Grant Ward and I’m too cool to be here.”

Jemma snickered, mimicking in turn, “I’m Grant Ward and my presence is a gift, you should all be so lucky.”

“Have you guys met him yet?” Fitz asked them between laughs. “He’s been here half a day and the whole family already thinks he’s terrible. Among other things, he’s jumped in on a discussion about world war two to point out that since there was violence on both sides, ‘the German soldiers are really no more to blame than the Americans’.”

“Wow.” Steve looked stunned. Tony understood the feeling.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many Starks silent at one time.” Fitz snorted.

“So how long is the proper amount of time to wait before I can start teasing Skye about having dated a neo-nazi?” Tony grinned.

“You should probably at least wait until they break up,” Fitz pointed out.

“Jan and Wanda are on it,” Jemma informed them. “The three of them are all holed up in Skye’s room as we speak.”

“Only took half a day and he’s already been voted off the island, huh?” Steve joked, laughing a little awkwardly. Tony immediately knew why.

“Steve, the guy sympathizes with _Nazis,_ okay? Anyone with half a brain knows you’re amazing, no one’s voting you off the island,” he insisted with a squeeze of Steve’s hand for reassurance, before demanding of Jemma, “Tell Steve he’s amazing.”

“Tony, don’t—” Steve started, looking embarrassed, but Jemma cut him off.

“No, he’s right,” Jemma agreed, telling Steve encouragingly, “You’re charming, you’re funny, your eyes are lovely and you’re certainly very handsome. You look like you play sports, actually, do you play any—?”

“Jemma,” Tony and Fitz interrupted at the same time.

“What?” Jemma blushed. “I’m just saying he won’t be getting kicked off my isla— _the_ island.”

“Steve is currently satisfied with the Tony island, thanks.” If Tony was maybe moving a little bit in front of Steve to possibly put somewhat more space between Steve and Jemma, it was purely for show.

“Relax.” Steve squeezed Tony’s shoulder, his hand dropping down to circle Tony’s waist and hug him a little closer. Tony told himself he only appreciated it because it contributed to the façade and not because Steve fit perfectly against him. He felt a brush of warmth as Steve pressed a kiss to his temple. “I appreciate the compliments, but he’s right. I’m more than happy with the island I’ve got.”

“Oh, I wasn’t—I didn’t mean it like—” Jemma started stammering, looking ready to melt into the ground out of embarrassment.

“Well, aren’t you two adorable? I could just puke,” a familiar voice announced cheerily from behind them.

“Fuck off, Clint,” Tony replied without turning around.

“Clint?” Steve released him to turn around and Tony had to fight the irrational urge to pull him back. Steve was just nice and warm, that was all. Obviously. “Clint Barton, the Olympic archer?”

“The one and only.” Clint preened a little, bickering forgotten in the face of a potential fan. Steve shot Tony a quick, knowing little glance, and Tony couldn’t help marveling at how incredibly good at this Steve was.

“Wow, it’s great to meet you,” Steve enthused to Clint. “Tony and I watched you win last summer, very impressive.”

“Well, you know.” Clint shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant. “At this point I’ve won so many times it’s all a blur, but I’m glad you got a kick out of it.”

“Definitely.” Steve smiled indulgently.

“Twice is a blur to you?” The accent was enough for Tony to recognize Pietro without looking behind him. Next thing he knew, Pietro was over by Clint, leaning an elbow on his shoulder. Guy had always been quick on his feet. “You must move slower than I thought.”

“Don’t touch me, spandex,” Clint snapped. Though his tone would imply nothing of the sort, everyone knew the two had a certain fondness for each other underneath all their competitive rivalry. Pietro was five years older than Clint and had been competing in the footrace portion of the Olympics for just as long; he had three medals to show for it. Clint was dying to catch up.

“If twice is a blur, three would just make your head spin,” Pietro advised. “Best to avoid it entirely.”

“All three seems to have done to your head is inflate it beyond recognition.” Clint shot back. “Did NASA lose a spaceship? Oh no, wait, it’s just the blunder twin floating around.”

“I think you mistake blunder for wonder, featherhead.” Pietro tilted his head innocently. “English your second language too?”

Jemma couldn’t seem to help a snort of laughter. Pietro grinned approvingly at her, then caught sight of Steve beside her. “And who are you?”

“Tony’s new beau,” Clint answered before Tony or Steve could. He made a face at Tony. “But don’t go thinking you’re special or anything, I’ve got a date this year too.”

“Someone’s willing to be seen with you?” Tony gaped. “In _public?”_

“Dick.”

“Okay, everyone lay out your bets.” Tony turned to the others. “How crazy do you think we’re talking?”

“Don’t be mean.” Steve, the naïve little flower, chided him.

“Last year was an eight, this year must be at least a nine,” Pietro contributed.

“Or he learned from his mistakes,” Fitz pointed out. “Brought it down a notch.”

“So like a six?” Jemma said thoughtfully.

Fitz shrugged, not quite convinced. “Eh. Seven?”

“Seven point five is my official guess,” Tony decided.

“If you think it’s higher just say eight.” Jemma rolled her eyes.

“I hate all of you,” Clint put in, but he sounded resigned more than anything else.

“Where is mystery girlfriend, anyway?” Pietro chuckled, glancing around the room. “I don’t see anyone new.”

“She’s…late,” Clint mumbled. Pietro beamed gleefully.

“Oh, _is_ she?”

“Don’t start, she’s real, she’s just running a teeny tiny bit late—”

“If you have to insist that she’s real, it only makes her seem less real.” Tony patted Clint’s arm. Clint punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Hey, you’re supposed to protect me from these things, _boyfriend.”_

“You were kind of egging him on,” Steve pointed out, though he did wrap a comforting arm back around Tony’s waist.

“What, so I deserved to get hit?”

“No,” Steve dragged the syllables out. “Of course not. Poked a little, maybe. Prodded, potentially.”

Tony gave Steve’s chest a prod of his own, told him sarcastically, “You’re a real treasure, sweetheart.”

Steve just laughed. The conversation shifted, and it wasn’t until a good few minutes later that Tony realized how very easily the pet name had come to him. He hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t decided to throw it in there for appearances or to impress anyone with their coupleness. He’d just…said it. This whole fake dating thing somehow seemed a lot easier with everyone watching. He was doubting himself less, he supposed; when they were in public, there was no question who all the affectionate gestures and cutesy moments were for. They had an audience. When they were alone, no matter how many times they’d called it practice, it had always felt a little…self-indulgent, maybe.

He shot Steve a sidelong glance. Steve didn’t notice for a minute, engaged in a debate with Pietro about the importance of physical skill versus strategy in football, but when he did, he smiled and squeezed Tony closer. Was his arm really still around Tony’s waist? Tony had almost forgotten about that.

“You okay?” Steve checked.

“Yep, great.” Tony nodded, a little quickly. “Why?”

“You were just staring at him adoringly and ignoring the rest of us, it wasn’t rude or anything, don’t worry,” Clint cut in.

“It was cute, don’t be jealous,” Jemma rebuked.

“Jealous?” Clint scoffed. “Why would I be jealous when I have a gorgeous Russian girlfriend?”

“My English still work in progress,” Pietro cut in, laying the accent on thicker than usual to make his joke. “‘Russian girlfriend’ is code for, how you say…‘mail order bride’, yes?”

“Screw you, okay, she’s not a mail order bride.” Clint shoved Pietro, who just laughed harder. “She’s real, and stunning, and I did _not_ pay for her.”

“Not even on the first date?” Steve interjected, the picture of innocence. “That seems a little rude, Clint.”

“You too, big guy?” Clint huffed. “Betrayed. And here I thought you were a fan. I was considering letting you on my team, even. With you as an inside man we could’ve pranked Tony so bad…”

“Is that supposed to be a tempting offer?” Steve chuckled. “Pranking my own boyfriend? Sounds a little counterproductive to my interests.”

“By which he means he likes getting laid.” Pietro clapped Clint on the shoulder. “You ought to try it sometime. Feels almost as good as three gold medals.”

“Oh _fuck_ you—”

“Language, boys,” Tony’s mom intervened, but there was a smile on her face even as she reprimanded them. She’d always loved these things, having everyone around and getting to play host. “Lunch is ready, why don’t you go pick a place to sit?”

There were too many people for them to all eat inside; meals were divided into groups—kitchen table, dining room table, living room, rec room, and the outdoor picnic tables. Spots weren’t assigned, so if they wanted prime seating, they’d need to get a move on.

“Dibs on kitchen,” Tony told the others by way of goodbye, taking Steve by the elbow and dragging him along quickly. “If we want the kitchen, we need to move fast.”

“Why do we want the kitchen?” Steve asked, though he was already picking up the pace.

“Outside is freezing right now, rec room is for kids, living room is crowded as shit, and only douchebags eat in the dining room.”

Steve laughed. “Good to know. I didn’t realize seating arrangements would be so complicated.”

“Honestly, Steve.” Tony grinned, tapped a finger to his forehead. “You have to think these things through.”

Steve slid his elbow from Tony’s grip, taking his hand instead and giving a squeeze. “That’s what I’ve got you for.”

They were beat out of the last two kitchen seats by an entirely too smug Bobbi and Hunter—who weren’t even dating this year, as Tony complained for the next twenty minutes—and were forced to choose between freezing to death outside, facing nosey adults in the dining room, or sharing a single seat in the living room. Tony was debating his options, until Clint weighed in.

“If you sit in his lap I won’t be able to keep this down,” Clint warned, gesturing at them with his grilled cheese.

“Of course I’m sitting in his lap,” Tony decided, tugging Steve along by the wrist.

“Of course.” Steve laughed a little but otherwise didn’t protest. He sat down first, moved his plate out of the way and opened his arms wide for Tony to join him. Tony tried not to hesitate too long and make it obvious he wasn’t sure how to go about this, but…he wasn’t sure how to go about this. He couldn’t face directly forward or his head would block Steve’s view, and if he sat sideways his feet would wind up in Thor’s lap, which wasn’t the worst thing ever or anything but—

Steve tugged Tony into his lap by the hip, and Tony fell right into place; enough to the side that Steve could see and straight enough that his legs got tucked up with Steve’s instead of in Thor’s lap. He really needed to stop overthinking these things.

After Clint stopped pretending to puke, everyone was much more focused on eating lunch and arguing about games than on who was occupying whose lap. They’d been there an hour or two now after all, the flashy newness was probably starting to wear off. Besides, the game argument was an important and time-honored tradition; with so many people, picking teams and setting the lineup was crucial. Steve was on Tony’s team, obviously—mostly because they were a couple, also maybe a little bit because the last time they competed in a board game they didn’t speak for a week afterwards—as were Jemma, Fitz, and Tripp. Clint and Pietro had Thor, Jane, and Darcy, which would be a hard trio contend with, but the current debate was who would get Bobbi and who would get Hunter. Since the couple wasn’t in the room and being split this year meant being on split teams as well, it was a heated argument. They were both solid players but Hunter had a weakness: he let Bobbi get away with everything.

With the group paying no attention to them as a couple whatsoever, Tony felt his guard shift down a little. He adjusted himself, curling into Steve a bit more and letting his head rest against Steve’s chest. It was possible he’d never find a better spot in the entire house; he had a perfect vantage point on everyone, Steve deflected the various pillows Clint tried to throw at them, and Steve felt…nice. Warm. Surprisingly cushy, despite the muscles. Kinda like he was meant to fit around Tony like this all the time.

Steve turned his head, lips brushing against Tony’s ear, and for once Tony was entirely prepared for whatever sappy thing Steve was going to say next. Tony was feeling a little sappy himself, if he was being honest.

“Make a break to grab Bobbi and tell her she’s on our team, I’ll block the door behind you.”

Tony couldn’t help a snort of laughter. He pressed a kiss to the side of Steve’s jaw, whispering back, “Deal.”

“Saps,” Clint muttered.

“You only say that because you wouldn’t know romance if it bit you in the ass.” Darcy, Jane’s friend and frequent plus one—despite the fact she’d been told multiple times that plus ones didn’t get plus ones—rolled her eyes. “I bet Steve was being really romantic. He looks like the type.”

“Oh, he was definitely being romantic.” Tony grinned at Darcy, then Steve. “In fact, I think that may be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Steve brows furrowed in adorable disgruntlement. “It better not be.”

“Too late.” Tony pressed a kiss to Steve’s disgruntled forehead crinkle, then pushed himself up and gestured with his empty plate. “I’m getting some more, back in a minute.”

The group bought it for about three seconds.

Everyone scrambled up at once, but Steve was half a second faster and beat them all to blocking the doorway. Tony glanced back to make sure Steve was okay—pointless, Steve was sweet as pie but also two hundred plus pounds of pure muscle, the others never stood a chance—then took off. He sped down the hallway, dodging three small children and various suitcases, until he was just within sight of the kitchen.

Which was, of course, when he was clotheslined by Uncle Jack.

“Tony, you little brat, you made it this year after all!” Uncle Jack wrestled an arm around his neck, brought his head down for a noogie. Tony squirmed and tried to wrestle himself free, but as usual, couldn’t quite manage to escape.

“Stop—would you just—let _go,_ come on!” Jesus, every fucking year—

“Relax, I’m messing with you.” Uncle Jack finally released him, giving him a bit of a shove as he did for good measure. Tony righted himself, but knew fixing his hair would just result in more teasing, so he resisted the urge.

“I thought you were out with everyone else.” Mom had said they’d be gone doing their annual cousins thing at least another hour.

Despite the fact that it rarely went well, every year the older Stark generation tried to bond via ice fishing; last year Uncle Phil got pushed into the water and went practically hypothermic. Rumor had it his heart stopped beating for something crazy, like a full thirty seconds, before Aunt Peggy resuscitated him.

“So did I.” Irritation crossed Uncle Jack’s face for a minute before it smoothed to a sneer. “Fifth time your aunt tried to put a fishing hook through my eye, we had to call it quits. You know how she gets.”

“I do.” How awesome she gets. “Great talk, but I’m kind of in a hurry, so—”

“Slow down there kid, take a second and catch up with your favorite uncle for a minute, would ya?” Uncle Jack threw his arm back around Tony’s shoulder, laughing when Tony stiffened preemptively. “Just like your old man, always wound so damn tight.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“You weren’t even here last year, I haven’t seen you in ages. Listen—you didn’t really invite some sissy friend of yours just to piss off your dad, right? Cause that’s what I’ve been hearing, and even you have to know that’s not your brightest idea.”

Tony pushed Uncle Jack’s arm off. “He’s not a sissy or a friend, he’s a boyfriend, and I didn’t do it to piss off Dad.”

“What then, to show us all what a precociously self-righteous little liberal you are?” Uncle Jack laughed. “Believe me, kid, we know.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you,” Tony snapped. “Or dad, or the family. It’s just something I am.”

Uncle Jack snorted. “What, gay?”

“Bi, but—”

“You’re not leaving so fast—”

“Not ‘bye’, _bi,_ as in bisexual, as in I like boys and girls, and I don’t have time to lay it out for you, I’m supposed to be getting Bobbi.”

“What the hell does Bobbi have to do with you being a f—”

“Suck it!” Clint shouted as he and the rest of his team shoved past Tony and Uncle Jack, careening down the hall and piling into the kitchen.

“Shit—”

“What’re you doing?” Steve found them next, looking out of breath. He leaned up against the wall. “I held them off long as I could, why’d you stop to talk?”

“Wasn’t given much of a choice.” Tony jerked a thumb at Uncle Jack. “Meet my _favorite_ uncle.”

Steve looked briefly confused, then straightened up and pushed off the wall. “Oh.”

“This is the friend you brought?” Uncle Jack eyed Steve. Tony could admit he took a little satisfaction in the fact that Steve was very clearly not built like the ‘sissy friend’ Uncle Jack had been picturing.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve stuck out a hand perfunctorily. “I’m Tony’s boyfriend, yes.”

“Sure.” A smirk spread over Uncle Jack’s face as he shook Steve’s hand, then he pulled him in closer, like he was somehow being sly as he asked, “So how much is he paying you, huh?”

Steve firmly took his hand back and leaned away. “He isn’t.”

“Sure, sure.” Uncle Jack raised both hands in the sign of innocence. “Keep telling yourself that. Here for Tony and not the money, right.”

Tony saw Steve’s jaw do its little tick right before he smiled, a sign that Steve was about to be blithe and snarky but was in actuality very dangerously angry.

“I’m here because I’m dating Tony and I’m curious about the people who made him the amazing person he is today, but clearly you weren’t involved in that.” Steve took Tony’s hand, started tugging him along the hallway. “Enjoy sleeping in the basement.”

Though Tony knew full well they’d pay for that later, it was easily worth the gaping look on Uncle Jack’s face. While Tony was still glancing over his shoulder, trying to savor the moment, Steve pulled them past the kitchen.

“Uh, Steve, it’s back—”

“What room are we staying in?” Steve interrupted.

“Oh it’s—we’re on the other side of the house, are you okay? Babe, you can’t listen to what he says, he’s a complete tool—”

“Is this empty? This looks empty.” Steve dragged him into the storage closet under the stairs.

“Oh, are we gonna make out now, or—” Steve shut the door behind them, and Tony lowered his voice. “To be honest with you, I don’t have a lot of confidence in my fake kissing noises, this may not be a good plan—”

“You’re not paying for my books,” Steve told him firmly.

“I’m…what?” Tony may have been a little bit distracted by their proximity. It was a small closet, and the combination of complete darkness and the hockey stick digging into Tony’s back meant they kept bumping up together; he was all but in Steve’s arms, and Steve seemed nowhere near as distracted.

“My textbooks,” Steve clarified, apparently completely unaware of the fact that they were one poorly timed hip movement away from dry humping. “At the beginning of all this you said you’d buy my books, but I would’ve done it no matter what and I shouldn’t have asked for anything.”

“Is that what this is about? Steve, you didn’t even ask, I _offered_ to pay for the books. Don’t worry, it’s really not a big—”

“It is a big deal, I want—” Steve stopped and took a breath, clearly frustrated about it. “The only reason I’m here is because you asked me to be. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice of you to offer the books too, but I don’t need an incentive to help you.”

“I know that.” Tony was trying to go for calming, but Steve still looked upset. Space issues temporarily forgotten, he leaned in a little, gave Steve’s arm a squeeze. “Steve, come on. You know you’re pretty much the best person I know, right? You literally help old ladies across the street.”

It was still pretty dark, but they were close and Tony’s vision had adjusted enough that he could make out the telltale signs of a blush rising on Steve’s cheeks. Mostly because he’d been watching and hoping for it.

“It was _one time,_ and she had at least four bags, I couldn’t just walk off—”

“Not to mention that cat you rescued from the tree.”

“You’re purposefully leaving out that it was my fault it was up there in the first place.”

“Hell, you’ve saved my life countless times—”

“If you’d fix the damn fire alarm and maybe _stopped setting things on fire,_ I wouldn’t have to—”

“I mean, really, come on. Who the hell else would I call for something like this?” Tony grinned a little, bumped Steve’s shoulder with his own to make his next words less ridiculously cheesy. “You’re always there for me, Steve. I know that. Just like I know you were going to help me out, books or no books. I was just trying to sweeten the deal a little, make it worth your while.”

“That’s my point,” Steve insisted. “This _is_ worth my while. The fake-dating bit is convoluted and maybe a little bit crazy, but I like spending time with you. That’s worth weeks of crazy all on its own.”

“Hallmark card,” Tony sang, because it was easier than saying _thank you_ or _how are you a real person that exists in my life_ or _I’d really like to kiss you right now._

“Sure, Tony.” Steve seemed to get the general message of gratitude anyway, if the fond eye roll was any indication, and he bumped their foreheads together. “You know, they’re going to think we were making out in here.”

“Told you we should’ve practiced.” Tony couldn’t help gloating a little, mostly because gloating was a good way to hide the rush of nervous excitement flooding through him. He wanted this to be good, to be _great,_ so great that maybe Steve would wonder why they didn’t do this all the time, so he tried to remember everything he’d ever learned about kissing. There was that trick Rhodey had taught him, and what Pepper always said about going easy with the tongue stuff, and how Happy suggested—

“Again with the kissing.” Steve just shook his head with a bit of a laugh, reached up to run his hands haphazardly through Tony’s hair. “I meant we should get a little mussed up.”

“Obviously,” Tony scoffed, returning the favor to Steve’s hair. Christ, his hair look unfairly good like that. “That’s what I meant, we should’ve practiced that.”

“I don’t think that’s what you meant.” Steve grinned, not fooled for a second. He ran his hands over Tony’s shirt, giving a few tugs here and there to achieve a satisfactory ‘debauched’ look. “I think you were trying to get me to kiss you again. Are you going to keep asking me to kiss you all weekend?”

“I’m not asking,”Tony insisted defensively. “You’re asking! With all the leaning and the teasing and the ‘they’re gonna think we made out in here’— _you_ want to kiss _me,_ Rogers. I knew it, I told you a week ago, we should’ve practiced so you could become immune to my charm and now here we are—”

“If I was asking you to kiss me, Tony?” Steve was suddenly _right there_ , so close now he eclipsed everything else, his hand cupping Tony’s chin to tilt it up enough that if Tony wanted to kiss him—which he _didn’t,_ obviously—he’d be able to do it that much easier. Their lips were an inch apart at best. Tony couldn’t have found the ability to speak just then if he’d tried. “You’d know it.”

Tony resolutely didn’t think about it. He didn’t think about how the way Steve was looking at him made his blood feel too warm for his body, or how good Steve’s hand felt sliding to cup the back of his neck as Tony leaned in and—

The door swung open and light poured in.


	5. Chapter 5

“You guys have all weekend to get busy, right now is game time,” Bobbi announced.

“Besides, wasn’t the whole point of bringing a boyfriend this year to get _out_ of the closet?” Clint grinned.

“Hilarious.” Tony rolled his eyes. He expected Steve to jump away, grateful to be intruded on before Tony got a chance to make a complete fool of himself, but Steve hadn’t taken his eyes from Tony for a second. He was still close, biting his lip now as he hovered there another moment, his hand moving down from Tony’s neck to his shirtfront. “Steve?”

“I…you were…” Steve couldn’t seem to string together anything, glancing instead at Bobbi and Clint before clutching Tony’s shirt. “We’re going to need another minute.”

The grip he had on Tony’s shirt was ironclad, and he was already shifting to block Tony from leaving. Tony had clearly fucked up. This had to be some kind of ‘we’re not going anywhere until we talk about the fact that you almost just kissed me for real and that’s not okay’ thing, or worse, an ‘I’ll buy you time in front of your family because I’m a good person but then I’m out of here and of your life and don’t ever talk to me again’ thing, _fuck—_

“Really?” Clint wrinkled his nose in distaste. “One more minute of making out is more important than us kicking your asses?”

“Yes,” Steve answered without hesitation, taking the door handle and jerking it shut. His voice dropped to a low, intense whisper, low enough Bobbi and Clint couldn’t hear, but he also moved in quite close. Hearing him was the least of Tony’s problems. “You were going to kiss me.”

“What, you took that seriously? That was—no, psh, what?” Oh great, he was nervous-babbling now. Last time he’d done that he’d told his dad he was dating a guy. “Don’t take it seriously, why would you ever take me seriously, I was just—”

“Don’t take it seriously?” Steve echoed, intensity gone.

“Of course not,” Tony rushed to say. Maybe he could salvage this after all? “I was just fucking around, got all caught up in the acting and the ‘proving my kissing skills’ thing, it wasn’t—don’t make it weird, I promise I didn’t mean it to be weird.”

“Oh.” Was all Steve said, which was completely and entirely unhelpful. 

The fact that Tony’s vision still hadn’t adjusted yet and he couldn’t see Steve’s expression didn’t help much either. It was impossible to get any sense of where Steve had landed on the ‘buying Tony’s bullshit’ scale, and Tony was reluctant to leave the closet again without knowing. Steve sounded a little subdued, maybe? But that might be all the whispering.

“So we’re okay?” Tony pressed. There was a worryingly long pause before Steve answered his question with a question.

“Would one of us having feelings for the other make us not okay?”

“That’s—that doesn’t even matter though,” Tony insisted, because it _didn’t._ Even if he did have feelings for Steve, which was becoming increasingly hard to deny even to himself, it wouldn’t matter, because he was a mature-ass person who could lock that shit down. Keeping Steve in his life was worth that ten times over. “That’s what I’m telling you, there aren’t any feelings here to worry about. I wasn’t even really leaning all that much, this closet is just crazy tiny and that stupid hockey stick kept digging into my back.”

“But if you did,” Steve said slowly. “Wouldn’t we still be okay? I’d like to think we would be, I mean, it’s like Bobbi and Hunter—they still come together every year even though they broke up, don’t they?”

“Well, yeah. Bobbi’s been coming here since they were teenagers.” They were a good five or six years older than him, so he’d been maybe ten the last time Hunter came alone to a retreat. Bobbi was as much his cousin as Hunter was. “Hell, we like her more than him anyway. She has a lifetime pass to this shitshow.”

“Right.” Steve smiled a little. “And that works for them, even though they’re not dating, because they’re friends before anything else. Just like we are.”

Tony had no idea what Steve was trying to get at. “Steve, Bobbi and Hunter hate each other.”

“What?”

“Bobbi and Hunter? They hate each other’s guts, why do you think we like pitting them against each other?”

“Are you kidding? They never shut up about each other,” Steve insisted.

“Yeah, about how much they hate each other,” Tony reminded him. “Not everything has some kind of double meaning, sometimes when people say they don’t have feelings for someone they just don’t.”

“Sure, but sometimes people say they don’t have feelings for someone because they know the other person doesn’t feel that way about them and they don’t want to get hurt,” Steve persisted. “And because that friendship is more important to them than risking it over something they know they can’t have. Maybe Bobbi and Hunter are like that, maybe they—”

“Okay, that’s it.” Bobbi announced, and opened the door again. She narrowed her eyes at them. “I heard my name, repeatedly, so I’d like to remind you that if you’re planning on pranking me for interrupting your makeout session, just remember what happened to Tommy when he tried.”

Tony shook his head quick as he could. “Nope, definitely not, would never dream of it. Have I told you how awesome you are today, Bobbi? Because you’re so awesome—”

“That’s more like it.” Bobbi threw an arm around him, dragged him out of the closet. “Now come on, I’ve got an ex-boyfriend whose ass could use a good kicking.”

“Yeah, brighten up, loverboy.” Clint clapped a hand to Steve’s back. Tony glanced over his shoulder; Steve did look oddly glum. Was he still upset? Did he not buy Tony’s excuses after all? “It’ll barely take ten minutes for us to whoop you losers anyway.”

The game absolutely did not take ten minutes.

They landed on charades, a classic, and a game that in theory really shouldn’t have taken long. In fact, despite how Steve seemed suddenly unable to make eye contact with Tony for prolonged periods of time, they were a startlingly good pair; Tony always seemed to know what Steve was trying to sign out, and Steve understood him in turn. It was their “freaky-good” signals—Clint’s words—that started the trouble in the first place. Clint was decided that because they were a couple they had to be cheating together somehow, which got Hunter suspicious of Thor and Jane, which got Pietro questioning some of the handsigns Jemma and Fitz were using. The argument began over whether or not British sign language was cheating if used in an American game but quickly devolved into whether or not America could kick England’s ass in a fight.

“America has _atomic bombs!”_ Clint gesticulated wildly. “How is this even a question?”

“We’re not talking bombs.” Hunter jabbed a finger in Clint’s direction. They were the only two standing; everyone else had remained seated on the floor. “We said fistfight, not war, and in a fistfight—” 

“We’d beat the snot out of you,” Darcy snorted. “Americans aren’t afraid to fight dirty.”

“And we are?” Fitz snorted. “I once saw Hunter pull Bobbi’s hair just so he could get to the last of Aunt Maria’s cookies first, and that was when they were still dating.”

“I’d do it again, too,” Hunter added proudly. Then, quickly, “Not the, uh. Dating. The hair-pulling bit.”

“Because of course that’s better.” Bobbi rolled her eyes.

“You’re damn right it is.” Hunter made a face. “Dating you was a nightmare, I can’t believe I ever—”

“Stop,” the room resounded. Hunter scowled.

Steve looked confused, so Tony leaned into Steve’s side to explain. “If we don’t stop the ‘nightmare ex-girlfriend’ speech early, he’s useless for the rest of the day.”

“Ah.” Steve nodded, but didn’t say much else. He hadn’t been particularly talkative since the closet disaster. Tony was making up for it by talking more than ever.

“If we really goad him he’ll talk so long that he loops back and starts over without even noticing, but that’s only fun the first couple times,” Tony continued. Steve just hummed. Tony opened his mouth to keep going, then noticed how closely Steve was watching Hunter and Bobbi’s bickering and decided to switch tactics. “Even if you’re right and they do still love each other, they’re a terrible example.”

That got Steve to finally look at him. “Why?”

“Because if one of us _did_ have feelings for the other, we wouldn’t go around being assholes about it for the rest of forever,” Tony told him decisively. It was the truth; no matter how much the fear part of Tony’s brain worried about the opposite, he knew in his heart that Steve was way too kind of a person to actually hold Tony’s feelings against him. And if Steve had feelings for him…well. It was a terrible thing to think about too much because thinking could oh so easily turn into hoping, but if Steve had feelings for him it certainly wouldn’t be anything to argue over. “We’re not them. We’d work it out.”

“You think?”

“I know.” Tony shrugged, shot Steve a grin. “Genius, remember?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but finally smiled. “I don’t remember your genius abilities including seeing the future.”

“Oh, have I not told you about that before?” Tony made an exaggerated ‘surprised’ face. “Because I can definitely see the future.”

“You can, huh?” Steve got a sly sort of smile, the kind Tony usually associated with trouble, but he was currently too pleased to have Steve smiling again at all to notice. 

“Of course I can. Why must you always doubt m—” Tony was rudely interrupted when Steve dug his fingers into Tony’s side. Tony tried to jerk away, but couldn’t quite manage to escape Steve’s grasp. “Cheater! Cheating cheater, get off me!”

Clint—possibly Pietro, possibly Hunter, possibly all three of them—must have been inspired, or just felt like being opportunistic assholes, because one second Tony was the only one laughing and the next the whole room was in chaos. He tried to use that chaos to wiggle his way free, but that just turned into a wrestling match, which of course Steve could’ve won with both hands tied behind his back. They rolled around for about half a second before Steve pinned him. Tony wanted to be mad, but the way Steve was beaming down at him made it impossible. 

“You didn’t see that coming?” 

“You’re terrible,” Tony accused. “ _Terrible._ I’m demoting you, worst boyfriend ever.”

“Liar.” Steve just kept grinning his big dumb grin. “I’m your favorite.”

“Favorite jerk, maybe.”

“I’ll take it.” Steve leaned in a little, like he might give Tony another one of those ridiculously adorable nose-kisses, which was of course when Tony heard his dad coming into the room.

“What’s all the ruckus?” 

He entered with an affable smile, but nobody missed the flash of surprise as his gaze caught on how Steve and Tony were tangled up together, least of all Tony. Tony sat up and Steve, correctly sensing a mood shift, quickly moved off him.

“Having fun, I see.”

“We were playing charades til we got distracted,” Hunter piped up. “By how England would kick America’s arse in a fight.”

“You from England then?” Dad raised an eyebrow at Steve.

Steve didn’t seem quite sure if he was being messed with or not. He settled on, “No sir.”

“Sir, yikes.” Dad snorted. “How’d you meet my son again?”

“He helped me move into the dorms,” Steve supplied.

“They hauled boxes for hours, then wound up talking so late they fell asleep,” Jemma added. “Isn’t that cute?”

Dad gave a little snort of amusement. “Wish he’d be that eager to help out when it’s not a tall blonde asking.” 

Tony bristled. “Dad!”

“There’s plenty of dishes in the kitchen if you want to prove me wrong.” Dad grinned, clearly having way too much fun.

“We’re busy,” Tony complained. Steve couldn’t seem to help smiling, although he was ducking his head in an attempt to hide it. Tony elbowed him. “Shut up, don’t be smug.”

“What’s your name, anyway?” Dad eyed Steve thoughtfully. “Tony told me nearly everything but that and your favorite color.”

Steve straightened and stood up, extending a hand formally. “Steve Rogers. It’s nice to meet you, thank you for having me.”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure I’d extended the invitation to a real person.” Dad chuckled as they shook hands. “Tony’s description was a bit, uh…shall we say ‘generous’?”

Steve looked confused. “How do you mean?”

“Nothing, he means nothing,” Tony interrupted, coloring a little at the memory. Phrases like ‘lots of muscles’, ‘greatest of the great’, and ‘the kind of nice you don’t think actually exists until you meet him’ stuck out.

“I don’t think I’ve seen him smitten like this before,” Dad told Steve. “Which I’m happy about, so long as you’re not too much of a distraction from his studies.”

“Of course not,” Steve promised quickly.

“Standing right here,” Tony reminded them.

“We study together all the time.” Steve ignored him, still assuring his dad. “I’m on scholarship, my grades are really important to me.”

“Scholarship, huh?” Dad looked intrigued. “What’s your major?”

“Art,” Steve answered honestly. Tony winced as Dad’s expression of interest faded.

“You ought to talk to Tony’s mother when you get a chance,” Dad advised. “She’s got plenty to say about that sort of thing. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your…game, argument, whatever it was.”

“Debate?” Jane offered diplomatically.

“Sure.” Dad snorted. “Not sure what there is to debate about, considering our current stock of nuclear weapons, but…”

“Told you!” Clint immediately shouted at Hunter.

“Fistfight!” Hunter shouted right back.

“Well, even in a fistfight, not much beats good old American gumption,” Dad reasoned.

“Is that so, Howard?” Aunt Peggy said. Tony brightened when he saw her leaning against the doorframe, and she shot him a smile before smirking knowingly at Dad. “Because I recall beating your ‘good old American gumption’ in more than one fistfight.” 

“Jumping ship the moment you could doesn’t make you any less American raised, Peg,” Dad disagreed. “You’re a point in our favor, strange accent and all.”

“The ‘strange accent’ here is yours, I was born overseas—”

“Oh please, just because the flight was above England at the time doesn’t mean—” 

“Why is so much of your family British?” Steve whispered discreetly while Dad and Aunt Peggy continued to bicker.

“Aunt Peggy went to England for study abroad in college, never came back. The cool half of the family followed while the rest stayed here. It’s still a touchy subject for grandma, I wouldn’t call too much attention to it.” 

“Your grandfather didn’t mind?”

“Grandpa doesn’t mind much of anything.” Tony shrugged. “He said three words to me my whole childhood.”

“‘I love you’?” Steve guessed.

“‘Don’t eat that’. I was two and thought chess pieces were edible.”

“Huh.”

“I’m not having this discussion with you again.” Aunt Peggy waved Dad off, coming over to sweep Tony up in a hug instead. “How are you, Tony?”

“Great! I, uh. Brought a date, don’t know if you heard or—”

“Oh, I’m quite aware.” Aunt Peggy turned to assess Steve. “Well, and here I thought Eleanor was embellishing. You’re a handsome young thing, aren’t you?”

Steve blushed adorably. “Uh. Thank you?”

“And charming too.” She squeezed his shoulder. “You’re just what Tony needs. You treat him right and we’ll all get along quite nicely. Now, have you booted Jack’s things out of your room yet or do I get to help?”

“He actually put his stuff in our room?” Tony frowned. 

“Of course he did, he and your father think they know everything.” Peggy rolled her eyes. “I told them you wouldn’t make up a boyfriend just to cause a fuss, but you know how they get.”

“Still here, Peg,” Dad interjected.

“I’m entirely too aware, dear brother.” Aunt Peggy grasped both Tony and Steve by the arm. “You all mind if I steal these two?”

Thor looked briefly disheartened, probably because he and Steve had been bonding over football before the fight broke out, but Aunt Peggy wasn’t really asking. She steered them off down the hall towards the front yard, already asking Steve rapid-fire questions about everything from his GPA to his life goals. She paid no mind to Tony’s numerous complaints about nosey aunts and invasions of privacy. Steve, for his part, seemed more amused by it than put off and dutifully answered all her questions. 

Between them, Tony didn’t have a single bag to carry into the house. It turned out two of his favorite people had a lot in common, stubbornness not the least of it—despite nearly toppling over twice, Steve seemed determined to keep pace with Peggy and not let Tony carry anything. Fine by him.

Tony had never been in Uncle Jack’s room before, but he’d been in others around the house and it looked about the same; sparse, modern, quiet. It wasn’t particularly large, but it was a hell of a lot nicer than the basement and would be far more private. They’d share a bathroom—and walls—but the room was upstairs and on the other side of the house from the rec and living rooms, so they were tucked away from all the action.

It was kind of nice knowing he had this to hide away in when he wanted to, actually. A safe space in the chaos. Truth was he didn’t hate his cousins half as much as he claimed, they were just loud space hogs who would inevitably cross from funny into obnoxious given time. If Tony had the chance to sneak away somewhere private when they started to get irksome, it was almost possible he might _enjoy_ this year’s retreat. Well, at least a little. Especially now that Steve seemed to be in a better mood, joking with Aunt Peggy and teasing Tony as they packed up Uncle Jack’s things, flashing him those tiny smiles…he really did have a nice smile.

_If I was asking you to kiss me, you’d know it._

Tony finished zipping up Uncle Jack’s suitcase a little aggressively. He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It didn’t matter that he’d thought maybe Steve was leaning a little too, or that he could still feel the warmth of Steve’s hands ghosting over his skin. Steve’s reaction had made it all too clear he’d just been joking.

“Check the bathroom, he might’ve put out his toiletries,” Aunt Peggy suggested, interrupting Tony’s thoughts. It was for the best that she had.

Tony nodded and glanced through the bathroom. He didn’t see anything of Uncle Jack’s, though he did see the world’s smallest shower. He gave a little snort of amusement, thinking about the kind of trouble Steve was going to have squeezing himself in there.

Tony shut the door to the bathroom abruptly, slamming it a little. Aunt Peggy and Steve both turned to look at him in surprise.

“I, uh.” _Just imagined you wet and naked and fumbling for soap and will now never, ever be able to get that image out of my head._ “Saw a spider?”

Aunt Peggy chuckled a little to Steve. “He’s never liked them. I’ll get it, I—”

“I think it went down the drain,” Tony blurted, then shuddered a little because _ew._ “Probably long gone. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“I’ll get it for you if it comes back,” Steve offered, shooting Tony another one of those terribly dangerous little smiles.

Steve would kill spiders for him. Well, Steve would kill spiders for anyone, he was that kind of guy. Even if he wasn’t, that was the kind of thing boyfriends did and Aunt Peggy was standing right there. Of course Steve would say that. Tony swallowed a little before nodding. 

“Yeah, thanks. Babe.” It took effort not to wince at how stupidly awkward he sounded. So much for this getting easier. 

“Anytime.” Steve’s expression flickered in concern. “You okay?”

“Sure,” Tony said quickly. Steve didn’t look particularly convinced, but they were interrupted before he could pursue it further.

“Clint’s girlfriend’s here!” Tommy shouted, running up and down the hall banging on doors. “And she’s _pretty!”_

“This I need to see to believe.” Tony jumped at the chance for a subject change, sidestepping Steve to head down the hall.

“I’m going to go drop this off in Jack’s lap.” Aunt Peggy hefted his suitcase. “I’ll let you two greet the mystery girlfriend. Play nice, Tony.”

“Don’t I always?” Tony grinned, heading down the stairs.

“Hey, wait up a minute.” Steve caught his arm when they were halfway down the steps, out of Aunt Peggy’s view and not yet in sight of anyone downstairs. He lowered his voice. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Anyone else and Tony would’ve shrugged them off with ease, but Steve just looked so damn _sincere._ Like he was worried. Like he actually, genuinely cared whether or not Tony was alright.

“I just…I had a weird thought,” Tony admitted. “It’s fine, I’m fine, it just threw me off for a minute.”

“A weird thought,” Steve repeated. “About what?”

“Nothing,” Tony said too quickly. Steve’s eyebrows jumped.

“About me?”

“No!”

“So yes.” Steve looked shocked, and shit, he shouldn’t have said anything—

“Fuck you, no, I shouldn’t have even—” Tony turned to stomp down the stairs and as far away from this conversation as he could, but Steve quickly pulled him back.

“Hey, no, what was the thought?” He seemed…urgent somehow, and he rushed to assure Tony. “It’s fine, really, we’re…” He lowered his voice even further. “We’re pretending to be a couple, it’s totally normal, what was the thought?”

“I’m not gonna _tell_ you!” Tony insisted. “That’d make it even weirder!”

“No, it’ll just…” Steve seemed to be struggling to find a good reason. “It’ll normalize it. Come on, you told me your sex dream about Rhodey—”

“If those words ever leave your mouth again I swear to god—”

“My lips are sealed,” Steve swore, miming a zipper. “We’re best friends, we’re fake dating, you let me meet your _family._ You trust me, don’t you?”

Tony groaned, dropping his head back against the stairwell. Steve was clearly not going to let this go. “I saw the tiny-ass shower and maybe it occurred to me that you’d have a hard time fitting into it much less showering in it, which maybe possibly ended with me visualizing that particular sequence of events, are you fucking happy now?”

“So you pictured me in the shower.” Steve was clearly trying not to smile, biting his lip to keep it down and failing terribly. Good to know Tony’s humiliation was funny to him.

“Shut up asshole, you asked and I answered, you can’t make fun of me just for—” 

“I’m not making fun!” Steve insisted quickly. “I’m not, I promise.” 

“I hate you,” Tony lied.

“No, hey, come on—”

Tony brushed him off and headed down into the very public living room so Steve would be forced to drop the conversation. Steve caught up with him anyway, took his hand and squeezed.

“Totally normal,” Steve insisted. He looked practically _cheerful_ about it, the bastard. 

“Still hate you,” Tony lied again, leading them briskly towards the front door.

“What, you think I’ve never had those kinds of thoughts about you?” Steve said casually, like his words weren’t a complete and utter revelation. Tony jerked to a stop, and Steve might have noticed had Clint not chosen that particular moment to kick in the front door and present his mystery girlfriend.

“Natasha?” Steve’s eyes went wide. 

“Steve?” Natasha looked equally confused, a rare sight.

The family fell silent to watch the exchange, clearly sensing a prime dramatic moment.

“Your boyfriend knows my girlfriend?” Clint squinted at Tony.

“ _I_ know your girlfriend,” Tony answered, giving Natasha a little wave. “We go to the same school. Did you forget what college I go to?”

“Shut up,” Clint said, then, “I don’t know. Maybe? We have a lot of cousins, I can’t be expected to keep track of all of them!”

“What about me, do you know where I—” Kate started to pipe up, but Uncle Gabe quickly shushed her.

“I get why you’re here,” Natasha pointed at Tony, then narrowed her eyes at them both suspiciously. “Why is Steve here?”

“Surprise?” Tony offered weakly.

“Uh, well.” Steve cleared his throat. “So you know how I’ve been turning down all those blind dates you keep trying to set me up on?” 

Tony turned to frown at Steve, because why would Steve be turning down perfectly good dates—Natasha was a meddler, but she was a damn good one and those dates would’ve definitely been with nice people worth Steve’s time and interest—only Natasha beat him to the punch. Literally.

“I can’t believe you!” She hit Steve in the shoulder, then Tony. “Both of you! Steve, I _asked_ if you were dating him and you told me—”

“Right, I said no—” Steve interrupted quickly.

“No, you said ‘only in my dreams’ and made a face like you were the tragically pining character in a Jane Austen novel.”

What? 

“I don’t think I said it quite like—” Steve was blushing now, blushing _horribly,_ but Natasha wasn’t finished.

“You absolutely did, and I remember because I thought you were being ridiculous and that Tony would go out with you in a heartbeat, so I offered to set you up with him, offered for _months_ and you kept saying—” 

“I kept saying no thank you!” Steve talked over her loudly. Any kind of hope Tony might have let spark from _only in my dreams_ fizzled out. Natasha had offered to set them up; Steve had said no. Offered for months, and Steve had insisted she not even try. Tony hadn’t been worth so much as a test-the-waters date. Steve grabbed Natasha by the arm, tried to steer her back outside. “Can we talk in private please?”

“Boo,” Pietro called. 

“You can’t just start a scene like that and finish it in private,” Hunter agreed.

“It’s not fair to your viewers,” Darcy pointed out.

“This isn’t a tv show!” Steve threw his hands up, exasperated.

“But we’re invested now,” Clint argued.

“Shut up, Clint, she’d tell you anyway.” Darcy scowled at him.

“We started dating soon after that conversation,” Tony told Natasha to end the argument. “We’re keeping it a secret so Steve won’t have to deal with people knowing, so please don’t tell anyone.”

“What do you mean?” Natasha narrowed her eyes, suspicious now. “He’s already out.”

“Not that he’s bi, that he’s dating me.” Tony rolled his eyes. Did he really have to spell it out, in front of his family no less? He was well-known for sleeping around and being a generally terrible person, Steve was the all-American football star everyone adored. If in some crazy alternate universe Steve somehow fell under his spell, why on earth would Steve want anyone to know?

“What are you talking about?” Steve looked both concerned and confused. “Tony, that’s not why we kept it a secret.”

“Uh.” Was Steve really going to argue their backstory right now? “Kinda thought it was, babe.”

“Does anyone have popcorn?” Darcy asked, only to receive about fifty shushes.

“Honestly, do you really think—if we—” Steve stopped himself with a shake of his head, pulled Tony close to him. “I thought we agreed to keep it quiet because it’d be fun, having this to ourselves for a while. But if you really believe for even a moment that I could ever be ashamed of dating you, then when we get back to campus I have a rooftop to stand on and an announcement to make.”

Tony cleared his throat. “That seems excessive.”

“And yet apparently necessary.” Steve smiled a little sadly, and Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever fully understand Steve. He was putting in so much effort to make Tony’s family believe this stupid ruse, and for what? The sake of friendship? What did Steve get out of this that made it worth saying such ridiculous things? “You’re amazing, Tony. How could you think I’d be embarrassed of you? You’re all I’ve wanted since—God, since the moment I met you.”

Tony reached up, stroked a thumb over Steve’s cheek. He knew the feeling all too well. He’d told himself so many times that it was nothing more than a crush, that it’d pass in time, that Steve was just too pretty for his own good. But though his handsome features certainly made Tony’s heart skip a beat or two, it had never really been about appearances. He could get used to a nice face. It was Steve’s kindness that never stopped surprising him, the way he always seemed to care so much and so effortlessly for everyone around him no matter how little they deserved it. No matter how little Tony deserved it.

Even now, Steve looked so damn sincere it was hard to tell himself Steve didn’t mean it. That this was all because of some stupid lie Tony had impulsively told his dad, and in just a few days it would all be over. He wouldn’t ever get to do this again. He could already feel his throat tightening, his stomach twisting up at just the thought of the loss, and he willed it away. This wasn’t the time for self-revelation.

But really, since when did his heart ever listen to him anyway?

He leaned up, brushed a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “You too.”


	6. Chapter 6

After some teasing over Tony’s minimal response—which Steve quickly shut down with a frankly impressive Look in Hunter and Clint’s direction—it was decided that Clint and Natasha would get ten minutes to unpack before the weekend’s planned events would proceed without them. It was time for the annual snowball extravaganza, and the Stark Snowball Extravaganza waited for no man. Well. No more than ten minutes, anyway. 

In the meantime, Tony pulled Steve aside.

“Why didn’t you want to go on any of Natasha’s blind dates?” Like, just for a totally random example, the one with him? “She knows what you like. I bet they would’ve been good matches.” Tony rocked back and forth on his heels, completely casual and not even a little bit emotionally invested. Just being a pal. A light, breezy, platonically interested pal. “Really, uh…really great matches. Great dates. They probably would’ve pulled out all the stops for you if you’d given them half a chance.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve said. He didn’t sound particularly convinced. “I just…I don’t really have time for that kind of thing right now.”

“What?” Tony squinted at him, tilted his head like he must have heard wrong. Of all the excuses for Steve to pick, that was a terrible one. “Last month on a bored whim we drove out to Coney Island and messed around at the amusement park for three whole days. This week you spent half your time practicing this with me, and now you’ve dropped everything to be here for the weekend. How much time do you think a significant other needs?”

“That’s what I mean,” Steve insisted. “I don’t want to cut back on spending time with—well, with any of my friends. Plus I’ve got school, and work, and football practice…unless it was someone already involved in my life, I just don’t think it’d be worth it, carving out more time for some random stranger. I’ve already got everyone I need.”

Steve reached out to squeeze Tony’s arm. Tony was kind of touched, until he saw Billy rounding the corner. Steve must have heard him coming.

“Found them!” Billy called back to the group before grabbing them each by the hand and dragging them along into the living room. Uncle Phil was already relaying instructions from his spot on the fireplace ledge.

“—then change shifts in two hours. Tony, Steve, if you aren’t going to take this seriously you should drop out now and save your team the points,” Uncle Phil announced as they entered, already entirely business.

“I thought we had ten minutes?” Steve glanced at his phone, confused.

“Don’t argue—” Tony started to warn, but Uncle Phil was already making the face at him.

“Did you not prepare him at all?”

Tony gave a mock salute. “Won’t happen again, sir.”

“See that it doesn’t. Peggy?”

“What’s happening?” Steve whispered to him as Aunt Peggy took her spot next to Uncle Phil in front of the crowd.

“Super-serious snowball fight slash capture the flag thing with an extremely complicated point system, no big deal, just a fun little game we play every year that sort of sets the tone for the rest of the weekend and if you die before sundown my family will never respect you again.” Tony had been kinda hoping if he said it fast enough Steve would just shrug and go with the flow. From the look on Steve’s face, that probably wasn’t happening. “Did I not mention that?”

“Seriously?” Steve whisper-hissed.

“Oops?”

“Melinda.” Unsurprisingly, Aunt Peggy’s first pick was Aunt Melinda, who joined her up front.

“Wait, I thought she was married to your Uncle Phil? And wouldn’t your Aunt Peggy choose her husband first?”

Tony shook his head. Oh, Steve. Poor, innocent, about-to-get-slaughtered Steve. “Uncle Phil _would_ pick Aunt Melinda if he had the chance, but he lost last year so first pick is Aunt Peggy’s, whose husband has the undercover skills of an elephant wearing cymbals. The Stark Snowball Extravaganza is no place for sentimentality.”

“Maybe I would know that, if you had mentioned it at literally any point in the last week. Or year. Seriously, how could you not have—”

“Shh, pay attention.” Tony elbowed him, ignoring Steve’s pointed look and focusing on team selections.

“I specifically asked you if there was anything I had to worry about—”

“And I said nothing because it’s nothing to worry about, it’s gonna be fine—”

“How could you not think to warn me there was going to be a _literal test—_ ”

“It’s not a _literal_ test, don’t be so dramatic. It’s a metaphorical test—”

“Metaphorical tests are still tests!”

“Steve.” Aunt Peggy honed in on them, a sweet smile on her face. Shit.

Steve shot Tony a look that strongly suggested whose fault this really was before turning to face Aunt Peggy. “Uh, yes?”

“On a scale of one to ten, how much would you enjoy hitting Tony in the face with a snowball right about now?”

Steve smiled. Double shit. “Fifteen, ma’am.”

“Promise never to call me ‘ma’am’ again and get those biceps over here, Rogers.”

“What?” Tony blanched. Aunt Peggy always chose him! Not to mention— “Foul, no way, newbies are always on the same team as the person who brought them! Besides, he doesn’t even know how to play—”

“I trust he’ll pick it up quickly enough.” Aunt Peggy turned. “Phil?”

Uncle Phil shrugged. “If you want to voluntarily give up one of your best players I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Tony, over here.”

“This is ridiculous,” Tony muttered.

Crap. Why did she even want Steve so bad anyway? Sure, _he_ knew that Steve was strategic as hell and craftier than he seemed, but all Aunt Peggy knew was that he looked like he could throw a snowball pretty well. Why would she choose him over Tony just because they’d been bickering a tiny little bit? Not that he cared, or anything. Sure, her decision made no logical sense whatsoever, but fine. It was fine. He’d win just as easily on Phil’s team anyway.

Okay, maybe ‘easily’ hadn’t been quite the right word.

By the final hour of the game, Tony was tired and sore and soaked in snow thanks to one Steven G(oddamn) Rogers, but he was actually closer to a win than he’d genuinely expected. They’d need to take down someone with at least ten flags to win and at this point, that left Peggy, Thor, or Steve. Peggy hadn’t had her flags taken since the Betrayal We Do Not Speak Of back in ‘06, Thor was basically a mountain with legs, and Steve had just set the record for most flags stolen in a first game, but still. It was possible. He had a plan—well, some of a plan. He’d tracked down their hideout was and climbed a nearby tree, that counted as a plan, right? He figured all he had to do was get the drop on the next person to leave and the element of surprise would carry him through the whole ‘steal their flags’ part. As long as that person wasn’t Thor, because Thor would swat him out of the sky like a bug and Tony preferred his bones unbroken.

He spotted movement. Blond hair, short. He waited an extra second to be sure—again, bones, unbroken—then readied himself to leap.

“Steve!” Aunt Peggy called out. Crap! Had she seen him? Was she warning Steve? How did she even know he was here? He’d been sitting in this godforsaken tree soaking his pants for half an hour, how could she have— “Can I speak with you a moment? Alone?”

Tony breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Wait. Alone? Why? Steve pulled up just short of the tree and Aunt Peggy jogged into view. He could maybe have taken two people with surprise on his side…if the other person wasn’t Aunt Peggy. He held his position.

“Did you need something?” Steve looked confused. “I thought I was supposed to see if I could track down their base.”

“If I know Phil, he sent all his agents out of the base an hour ago. I’m sure they’re playing free game with a time-based check-in point somewhere.” Damn it. “I wanted to talk to you about Tony, actually.” Double damn it.

“Sure.” Steve was clearly going for casual and failing very hard. “What about him?”

“I just thought we ought to clear a few things up, that’s all.” Peggy played casual better than Steve, but they were both far too honest in nature to really sell that kind of thing. “Tony’s quite a closed book at times, isn’t he?”

“Uh, well…” Steve hesitated. “I mean, yes, he can be…like that. Sometimes. But I wouldn’t say he’s a closed book, just…written in a different language, maybe. You have to put in some work to read the story—okay, sometimes a lot of work—but his story, it’s…he’s worth it. Really, really worth it.”

Tony focused very hard on not falling out of the tree just because his heart had decided it’d be a great time to leap into his throat. Steve couldn’t really—of course not, _obviously_ not. It clearly was a line, and a good one. Steve must be watching soap operas again. That was why he was suddenly some kind of master class romance actor. Hell, he was good enough that even Tony got maybe a little, tiny bit fooled for a minute, thinking Steve might actually…god. Stupid.

“Oh, Steve.” Aunt Peggy smiled warmly. “We’re going to get along very well, you and I.”

“Really? I—” Steve brightened, then tried to reign it in a little. “Well. That’s great, I’m glad.”

“So you met Jack, then,” Aunt Peggy said knowingly. 

“Yeah.” Steve looked like he’d swallowed something sour. “He wanted to know how much Tony had to pay me to get me here.”

Aunt Peggy sighed. “Sounds like him. Don’t concern yourself too much with his opinion, honestly. Or Tony’s father’s for that matter. Those two are emotionally obtuse on the best of days. All the money in the world couldn’t buy the way you look at him, Steve. The rest of us know that.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Carter.” Steve smiled, and Tony’s heart hurt.

Maybe he couldn’t buy it, but that didn’t make it real. Steve valued their friendship. He’d said so enough times Tony actually kind of believed him, a feat in and of itself, but that was all. He valued their friendship enough that he was willing to go along with Tony’s stupid, ridiculous charade. That was _all._

“Peggy, honestly.” Aunt Peggy made a face, then clapped Steve on the back. “Congratulations on that record of yours, by the way.”

Steve smiled. “I really set the record?”

“Beat out the last newbie by a longshot.” Peggy winked. She watched him thoughtfully for a moment before adding, “Though we would’ve liked you just as well, regardless.”

“Yeah, sure, no, I—I know that.” Steve shuffled some snow with the toe of his boot. He was incredibly unconvincing.

Tony was such a bad boyfriend. Fake boyfriend. Whatever. He knew firsthand that it was impossible to not love Steve, just like he knew Steve himself was first in line to shut down that kind of talk. Steve had this delusional worry that he didn’t measure up somehow, that he wasn’t quite enough, despite the obvious fact that he was so clearly one of the best people anyone could ever know. Not that Tony was biased or anything. Okay, he was, but even unbiased people like his family and the professors at school and random passerby on the street were able to sense Steve’s inner goodness. He just radiated it. He was always making other people feel good—it was practically his superpower. He deserved to feel like that too.

Yet here Tony was, brooding up in a tree, having spent all day wallowing in his own dumb angst over some stupid little unrequited crush instead of being there for Steve and providing reassurance when he clearly could’ve used it.

God, he was fucking terrible at this. He vowed to double down on complimenting Steve the very first chance he got.

“Meeting the family can be quite nerve-wracking, can’t it?” Aunt Peggy mused. “I was desperate for Gabe’s family to approve. And I’m not a woman who needs to be liked, never have been, but in that moment it mattered more than anything. It seemed that if they didn’t approve of me…”

“Then he would want to find someone they did,” Steve finished quietly. “Someone better.”

“Precisely.” Aunt Peggy squeezed his arm. “But Steve, listen—trust in your relationship. Trust in Tony. Today he brought you into the most private part of his already incredibly private story, the part he’s kept everyone else a world away from. That carries more weight than I think you realize.”

“I guess,” Steve admitted begrudgingly, though Tony heard the protest Steve couldn’t voice.

He wanted to say that Tony hadn’t really had a choice. That it was all a charade, an act they were putting on, so there wasn’t any relationship to trust—except there was, even if it wasn’t the relationship Tony wanted it to be. He chose to bring Steve here. He could’ve told his dad he’d made it all up or created another outrageous lie to postpone the whole thing, but he hadn’t. He’d gone to Steve, because he trusted Steve and cared about him and yeah, maybe some part of him had hoped for this. Wanted it. For Steve to see where Tony came from, to come face to face with this crazy, hot mess of a family and choose to stick around anyway. And he had. Without question or waffling or any attempt whatsoever to back out. He came and stood by Tony’s side and just gave himself over to the crazy of it all, even when that crazy included homophobic uncles and obnoxious cousins and very complicated snow games nobody sane actually enjoyed. After all that, didn’t Steve deserve better from him?

Tony shimmied down from the tree.

“She’s right, Steve. I—”

“Shit!” Steve leapt back in surprise, eyes wide, but Aunt Peggy wasted no time at all.

Tony was pretty sure she didn’t even flinch before vaulting forward, tackling him to the ground. He was zero percent prepared for a fight; it took less than thirty seconds for her to flip him over and rip the flags from his back. With one knee still pressed unflinchingly on his spine, she ruffled his hair affectionately.

“Thought you’d never come down, honestly. Take five and reassure sweet Steve here, then I want him back in the field hunting down your last few teammates. Deal?”

“Deal,” Tony muttered into the snow. This was what he got for trying to be a decent human being, damn it.

“Mrs. Cart—Peggy—I—”

“Always consider the long game, Steve,” Aunt Peggy advised as she finally took her knee off Tony’s back. “I want to see more of that from you next year.”

“Next—uh. Yes. Thank you?”

Tony picked himself up as Aunt Peggy disappeared into the woods. He dusted off what snow he could, but he was basically soaked through at this point anyway so it didn’t make much difference.

“So you were, um…” Steve shuffled awkwardly.

“Listening?” Tony rubbed his ear, tried to get the last bits of snow out. “Yeah, I mean—I was trying to sneak attack you, obviously, but then Aunt Peggy came out and I value my life so the sneak attack got put on hold. Then you started talking, though, and Steve…” Tony glanced around. Aunt Peggy had disappeared, but the way they played this game the trees might still have ears.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Steve interrupted with a shake of his head. “You weren’t meant to hear that and I was just…I don’t even really know what I was talking about. It was silly.”

“Well, I do know what you were talking about, so listen up—you matter to me. A lot. Like, we’re talking about an unreasonable, inadvisable amount.”

“Tony—” Steve started, and he could see the brush off coming from a mile away—‘sure, Tony’, ‘whatever you say, Tony’, ‘you’re so ridiculous sometimes, Tony’—so he took both of Steve’s hands in his and squeezed.

“Nope, stop, halt. It’s my turn to talk and reassure and be a good boyfriend, got it?” Tony insisted without actually giving him time to answer. Steve would switch things around on them given a moment’s chance and before Tony knew it he’d be the one being comforted. Not this time. “I couldn’t care less what my family thinks of you. They obviously think you’re perfect anyway, but even if they hated you I wouldn’t care, and I sure as hell wouldn’t ‘find someone better’. There is no one better. Period, end of story.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” Steve was smiling but it was a fake smile, an ‘uh huh, sure, whatever you say’ smile, like Tony didn’t know what he was talking about. Which was a joke, because Tony had been intently studying Steve’s amazingness for ages now and had a hell of a lot to say on the subject.

“You think I’m exaggerating because you’re so humble it borders on complete obliviousness sometimes, but that’s fine, because I’m more than capable of educating you on one of the truest facts I know: objectively speaking, you’re a straight up amazing human being.”

“Objectively speaking,” Steve repeated dubiously, but a genuine smile was pulling at the corner of his mouth. Good.

“Objectively speaking.” Tony nodded like they were in agreement. “Plain and simple. I mean you’re funny as hell, for one thing. I can’t count how many times I’ve pissed off my professors laughing at something you texted me under the table. And smart! Not with tech maybe, at least not like me, but you just—you see things I don’t, get _people_ in ways I don’t, catch the little things anyone else would miss completely. And you’re so freaking righteous—” Steve made a face and Tony wanted to shake him. “Not like that—well, not just like that, you do get stubborn, but even that’s—I like that, most of the time. Nothing scares you. When you know something’s right nobody’s gonna stop you from doing it and you’re just—it’s amazing to watch, when you get like that. Really. And don’t even get me started on—”

“Honestly, Tony, you don’t need to—” Steve was starting to squirm, clearly embarrassed. Even better.

“—how compassionate you are or we’ll be standing here all night, don’t interrupt me. You’re compassionate and sweet and such a dork it’s amazing— _you’re_ amazing. I mean, really, people are only supposed to get so much of one category, right? You’re either really attractive and dull as a rock or you’re mediocre-looking and super interesting, but _you_ somehow get to be both and shut it, Rogers, I see you with the ‘I was a shrimp until college’ bullshit—your mom has shown me the pictures, okay, you may not have always looked like you recently descended from Mount Olympus, but you were always handsome as hell.”

Tony paused to take a breath. The goal had been to overload Steve into submission, sure, but his face was actually starting to look a concerning shade of red. He was also blinking a lot. Like, a lot.

“You think…wow. Uh. That’s,” Steve stammered. “Wow. You really…you believe all that? About me?”

“Obviously!” Tony threw both hands in the air. This should not be a surprise. This should be old news, obvious news, but it was starting to dawn on him that maybe by working so hard to hide how he really felt about Steve he might’ve accidentally given Steve the impression he didn’t like him all that much as a friend either. And that—well that was simply unac-fucking-ceptable.

“Wow,” Steve repeated, hushed this time.

“Not wow,” Tony demanded. “Say okay. Say ‘why yes Tony I am amazing, I know that already’.”

“That’s a bit—”

“It’s not a bit much, it’s the exact right amount. Say you’re amazing.”

“Are you trying to bully me into saying I’m amazing?”

“No. Maybe. I’m just—it’s not bullying, it’s encouragement. Now say you’re amazing or I’m gonna start stuffing snow down your jacket until you do.”

“I’m amazing,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes. Tony made a buzzer noise.

“Unacceptable. Do it again, no eye roll this time.”

“Tony—”

“Snow, jacket, I mean it.”

“I’m amazing.” Steve’s smile was definitely more amusement-based than because he genuinely believed what he was saying, but Tony would take it for now.

“Damn right you are.”

“Tony…” The amusement had faded fast, and the way Steve was looking at him now was…different. He hadn’t ever seen Steve look at him like that before. An anxious sort of chill ran down his spine, but he blamed it on the cold. He’d been over the top, sure, but he hadn’t—he was being silly, misreading things— “We should talk.”

You’d think by now he’d have learned to recognize disappointment.

He’d been so concerned with making Steve feel better that he’d fucked up and given himself away. Might as well have just written _I’m deeply, ridiculously, stupidly in love with you_ in the snow, it would have saved time. Steve knew how he felt. That was why he looked so disappointed, so sad, because Tony had taken advantage of him and their friendship, let down one of the best people he’d ever known—

“Please don’t break up with me,” he blurted, fear and anxiety clawing up his throat. He felt like he might hurl. Or, worse— _don’t cry,_ he demanded of himself. His eyes burned. _Don’t cry you big baby, god, how pathetic can you actually be to cry over a fake fucking breakup—_

“No, hey, I’m not—why would you think—of course I’m not, Tony.” Steve must’ve seen something in his expression because he shook his head quickly, apologetically, and took Tony’s hands in his. His thumbs rubbed soothing little circles. “Hey, I mean it. I keep telling you I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sure, _but…”_ Tony prompted.

“No buts.” Steve squeezed his hands.

“Yes buts, you said ‘we should talk’, everyone knows that’s code for breaking up—”

“Not if…” Steve glanced around, lowered his voice. “I mean…we’re not actually—”

“I know,” Tony snapped defensively. His ears burned. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Of course you’re not,” Steve said quickly. He sounded frustrated. “That’s—I’m awful at this, this is the complete opposite of how I wanted to make you feel, I wanted—I was trying to—god, all that stuff you said? That’s how I see _you,_ Tony.” Hope swelled in his chest. He tried not to get carried away without hearing Steve through, but no amount of effort could stifle his smile. “I can’t—I don’t know how to say it like you do, but it’s…my life is better with you in it. Hands down. Everything is better with you, and sometimes I take that for granted, but then you’ll say something or do something or just smile and I—I get hit all over again by how brilliant you are, how kind and funny and just… _original_. I’ve never met anyone like you. And the fact that you even hang out with me is stunning enough so I try not to think about the rest of it, but this week, today especially…being this way with you just feels so—”

“Stark bomb!” Someone shrieked, and _oh god no—_

A wall of snowballs rained down on them before Tony could react, knocking them both to the ground. He could actually kill Clint and Pietro. He really could. Stark Bombs were the one thing they ever did together, their signature move, combining Pietro’s snowball-making speed and Clint’s accuracy to bury their opponents in obscene amounts of snow.

“We’re on the same team, you—“ Tony spat out a mouthful of snow, raised his voice louder since he couldn’t see them. “You _assholes,_ god, when I catch you I swear—”

“All’s fair in love and war!” Clint challenged. “Pietro, now!”

Tony’s vision was still somewhat snow-blurry but he could make out enough to see Pietro charging forward, clearing gunning for Steve’s flags while the snow had him disoriented. Not on Tony’s watch. He managed to shake out of the pile just in time to dive between them and tackle Pietro around the legs. They rolled away as Steve’s head finally popped out of the snow. He didn’t look great, red in the cheeks and a little shaky, and he stumbled a bit as he scrambled to his feet. Keeping an eye on Steve distracted Tony just enough for Pietro to slip away before he could get a hand on his flags in retribution.

“Assholes!” Tony called after them for good measure before honing in on Steve. “Hey, are you okay?”

Steve nodded, but his tightly crossed arms and chattering jaw told a different story. Tony started stripping out of his jacket and scarf, then his gloves. Steve already had gloves, but Tony’s were better. His boots were better too but they weren’t the same shoe size. He had fuzzy socks back at the house though, those might—

“What are you doing? I’m—”

“—fine, yeah, sure you are,” Tony finished the lie for him with a huff, tugging his jacket around Steve’s shoulders insistently. “You’re a big ol’ tough guy who doesn’t get cold or want extra jackets or need anyone’s help ever, I know.”

Steve smiled, warm and affectionate, and Tony felt the last traces of anxiety finally uncurl. Steve wasn’t fake breaking up with him. Steve wasn’t even mad at him. He’d just been trying to express how much he enjoyed their friendship too, before Tony went and got all freaked out about it. 

“Tony, I should—I was trying to tell you something, before they….” Steve waved a hand vaguely.  Tony nodded, still busy wrapping his scarf around Steve’s neck. He fluffed it up and tucked in the ends so it would stay put. Steve took his hands before he could pull them back, held him in place. “I’m trying to talk to you, would you—”

“Relax, Steve.” He smiled, interlacing their fingers so he could squeeze Steve’s hands. “I get it.”

“You…get it?” Steve’s head quirked a bit. He looked confused, but surprisingly pleased about it. Hopeful even.

“Yeah,” Tony said sheepishly. “I mean, you were pretty clear.”

“Good.” Relief flooded Steve’s expression. He laughed. “Great, that’s—oh, that’s perfect. Lord knows I was gonna stumble about fifteen more times before getting to the important part. Does that mean…you feel the same way?”

“Of course I do.” Tony nodded quickly, putting Steve’s doubts firmly to rest. Steve’s expression was so bright now, so happy, and Tony wished he could figure out a way to make Steve this happy all the time. He deserved that. “I mean, I went on and on about what a straight up amazing human being you are for like ten minutes, I think that says something.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s hands curled around his a little tighter, pulled him in a little closer. He was probably still cold.

“Yeah, you goof.” Tony grinned. “We’re both amazing and our friendship is the shit. We’re in total agreement. Now let’s get you inside before your toes freeze off. You can steal my fuzzy socks, and I’ll even make my special hot chocolate.”

Steve blinked. “Oh. Uh, well, actually I…I thought…”

“I know, I know, Aunt Peggy said she wanted you back after five, but c’mon. You already won anyway, and after that stupid Stark Bomb you’re probably soaked through. Plus, trust me, if we don’t go in early we won’t get anywhere near the fire until after midnight.”

“I suppose,” Steve said absently. Weirdly, Steve sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, his go-to move when he was trying to make the really tough decisions. He must’ve been teasing, playing around, but it was…surprisingly convincing. Then again, this week had gone a long way to show what an incredibly talented actor Steve was. He looked oddly defeated for a moment before straightening determinedly. “Alright, yeah. Let’s go do that.”

“Calm down there Captain Cocoa, we’re not marching off to war. It’s just hot chocolate. And to be fair, given my history with organic matter I can understand wanting to reserve judgment until you’ve actually tasted it,” Tony agreed, turning back towards the house and tucking his arm through Steve’s to tug him along. “But mark my words, you’ll be begging me to make it again tomorrow. Everyone does. Clint and Pietro aren’t getting a drop though, I can tell you that right now.”

“They’re not my favorite Starks,” Steve admitted with a grimace.

“That’s practically a burn, coming from you.” Tony grinned.

“Anyone who isn’t you is ‘not my favorite Stark’, so it’s a good all-purpose sentiment.” Steve grinned back. Despite all they’d said before, Tony’s heart still fluttered. Just a little.

He bumped their shoulders together. “Hey, it’s my turn to be the Hallmark card, remember?”

“Sure, Tony,” Steve nodded placatingly, but there was no mistaking his fond smile. Tony rolled his eyes. Whatever, he’d take it.

“I’m gonna make you feel special as hell, damn it,” Tony declared. Steve just smiled again. It was too easy, but Tony decided he was okay with that.

For now.


End file.
